


The Sickness

by illgetmyspade



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Spanish flu, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgetmyspade/pseuds/illgetmyspade
Summary: Geoffrey McCullum is taken ill and his men turn to a reluctant Dr Reid for help.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 82
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1-4 fully revised and expanded with major changes. Minor ones might follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the first four chapters. Since it's major changes I decided to put in a new publication date.  
I hope you'll enjoy it! Comments and feedback welcome!

“Dr Reid!!” Nurse Hawkins’ voice sounded through the hallway of the Pembroke.

Jonathan didn’t like the touch of panic he heard in it, so he quickly took his leave of Harvey Fiddick to see what the ruckus was about.

The nurse was standing in the hallway, accompanied by two Priwen guards. Jonathan gave them a wary look. Did they really want to bother him on his turf now? Then he noticed their dishevelled state and racing heartbeats and the blood splatters on their clothes.

“What’s the matter?” he asked the nurse, feeling he was already close to losing his patience with the two men before they’d even opened their mouths.

“These two gentlemen need you, apparently it’s urgent.” Nurse Hawkins shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t think any Priwen business could really be urgent as far as the Pembroke was concerned. She also thought that Priwen usually meant trouble, and the two guards looked like they were no exception. “I don’t think you will be needing me, Dr Reid, will you?” she shot him a hopeful glance, knowing that the doctor wasn’t too fond of Priwen either.

“I won’t, thank you, nurse,” he replied politely before turning to the two guards. “What can I do for you?” he asked, trying to be as courteous as possible.

“Dr Reid, please, we really need your help,” one of the guards blurted out. He was a big man with a pockmarked, rough face, and he didn’t actually look like his nerves could be frayed easily. “We were attacked by vulkods and skals and our leader got hurt real bad.”

So it was Geoffrey fucking McCullum who needed his help. Jonathan did his best no to growl in annoyance. “You do have your own medics though, don’t you?”

“Aye, we do,” the second guard replied. He was younger than his colleague and looked rather terrified – either because he didn’t like having business with an ekon or because he was genuinely afraid for his leader. “McCullum isn’t just injured though--“ He broke off, unsure how to continue. “It was in the middle of the fight, when he just… sort of… I don’t know. He started coughin’ real bad, then he threw up and, well, broke down. That’s when the skals got him.”

Jonathan frowned. That didn’t sound right. “He broke down? Vomitting?”

“Yeah, and when we tried to help him, get him back to headquarters – that is after we took down the leeches – he told us to fuck off and that he could go there himself.” That, on the other hand, did sound exactly like the obnoxious leader of Priwen. “He threatened to shoot us if we tried to get near him,” the guard added in a small voice, looking at the ground before him.

“So you thought I could help out – after all, what’s it matter if the bloody leech doctor gets shot? Frankly, gentlemen, I’d be rather stupid to--”

“Dr Reid,” the older guard interrupted him. “I’ll understand if you won’t come with us. But I beg you anyway, please help us. We have medics, yes, but no proper doctor like you, and I’ve never seen McCullum in such a state.”

Jonathan sighed. He didn’t like it one bit. “If this is a trap--“ he began, only to be interrupted by the guard again.

“It isn’t. I swear. I don’t really like this either, to be honest, you being a leech and all…” The guard shook his head as if in disbelief at what they were asking for. “Wouldn’t’ve come here though if we’d thought you, err, were no different from the other fuckin’ blood drinkers,” he admitted.

Jonathan knew it was futile to argue with Priwen guards about what he was or wasn’t. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll come with you. Let me just go get my coat and bag.” He hurried up the stairs to his office, the guards looking after him.

“Think this is a good idea?” the younger one asked.

“Fuck if I know, Georgie. But Reid might be the only chance McCullum has, so I say this idea is better than the alternative.”

Before the other guard could say anything, Reid came running down the stairs. In his black coat, he looked more familiar to the guards, and the younger one, Georgie, swallowed at the sight. Reid’s face was of a ghostly pallor, and his grey eyes seemed to see right through him. He knew that in a way they did, since vampires were able to sense blood – he’d read somewhere that they could in fact _see_ the blood in a body. A shudder ran through him at that thought.

“Where to?” Jonathan asked, ready to follow the two guards.

“North Docks. We’ll lead the way.”

They set off, and upon leaving the hospital premises the guards fell into a jog, occasionally turning around to make sure Jonathan was following. They encountered a few Priwen patrols on the way to the Docks, but none of them made any moves to attack the ekon. Jonathan guessed they’d been warned before – it was a nice change, being able to get through London without being harassed by the bastards.

“We’re almost there, Dr Reid,” the older guard finally said, slowing to a halt. “You won’t hurt him, will you?” he asked, as if he suddenly regretted bringing the doctor here to tend to his leader.

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan replied with an exasperated smile, “I’ve been a doctor longer than an ekon – and, contrary to what your lot thinks, _I _never meant any harm to any of you, including McCullum. But let’s not tarry, time is of the essence.”

The guards looked at each other, hesitating for just a split second, then they told Jonathan to follow them through a small alleyway. He could smell the blood now, its sweet scent lingering heavily in the air. Even though he at once understood that this wasn’t an ambush, he felt decidedly uneasy. A handful of Priwen guards were standing around, keeping a safe distance to their leader as much as protecting him from any potential attackers. McCullum was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall, pistol in hand and glaring at his men. The carcasses of several skals and vulkods were lying on the ground, their blood seeping into the ground. The smell scratched in Jonathan’s throat, teasing his hunger. He decided it would be better not to give in, not in front of a bunch of trigger-happy Priwen guards.

“He’s here,” the older guard said, pointing at Jonathan.

Slowly making his way towards McCullum, the ekon was as wary of them as he was of their leader. He wondered what they’d heard of the leech doctor at the Pembroke and hoped none of them had encountered him in the streets before. “Could you please not stare at me as if you wanted to sever my head from my torso?” he hissed, trying not to sound too menacing.

“Lads, give the doctor some space,” one of the guards ordered, and to his surprise Jonathan felt them relax a bit, stepping back. McCullum had remained quiet since he’d arrived, and the ekon sensed that the man was close to losing consciousness.

“McCullum, can you hear me?” he asked softly, kneeling down next to him.

Geoffrey just groaned, his head slowly bobbing from side to side.

Taking the pistol from his hand and putting it out of his reach, he moved closer to the injured man, flaring his nostrils and taking in his scent. He was bleeding from wounds, probably inflicted by the skals, but there was something else, and Jonathan didn’t like it. Underneath the smell of blood and vomit, there was sickness, too.

“McCullum!” he tried again. “Geoffrey! Can you hear me?” Just as he put a hand on his cheek, the hunter opened his eyes. He had difficulty focusing at first, but then he recognised Jonathan and his eyes widened in shock.

“Fuckin’ leech!” he cried hoarsely. “Take your dirty paws off me!” He struggled hard to move away from Jonathan.

“Relax, McCullum, I’m here in my capacity as a doctor, not as a leech.”

“Fuck off, Reid, I don’t need your fuckin’ help,” Geoffrey gasped. He tried to push Jonathan away but instead found himself grabbing the ekon’s sleeve, steadying himself as he felt the sour taste of vomit rise in his throat again. He bent over, breathing hard, trying to fight the nausea.

Without thinking, Jonathan put an arm around him to support him. This time, McCullum didn’t even protest. “Let me take a look at your injuries,” Jonathan said quietly as he ran a hand over the hunter’s back.

“Fuck off,” Geoffrey growled feebly, but when Jonathan began to unbutton his coat, he didn’t resist. Blood was seeping through the torn left sleeve of his coat, and the cloth of his vest was stained with a dark spot on his right side. His right trouser leg was cut and bloody, too.

“I can’t tend to his wounds properly here,” Jonathan said, turning his head to the guard that seemed to be in charge. “That leg wound needs stitching, the arm, too, and it’s possible he has internal injuries.” He quickly took off his own coat and rolled it up as a cushion, then gingerly moved the hunter to lie down with his head resting on the coat.

Geoffrey moaned quietly, clenching his teeth. He was shivering, but his forehead was damp with sweat and he didn’t even know whether he was feeling cold or hot.

Pulling up Geoffrey’s shirt, Jonathan concentrated on the blood flow underneath the torn skin on his belly, carefully probing the area around the cut. He would need to stitch this, too, but at least there was no damage to the organs. Reaching for his bag for gauze and bandages, he looked at the guards standing around him. “I’d rather not stitch this in this filth and muck.”

“Just patch him up so we can get him back,” the big guard who’d come to the hospital earlier growled impatiently.

“Fine, suit yourselves,” Jonathan mumbled. “Just make sure to take precautions against the Spanish flu,” he added seemingly _en passant_, while he gently put gauze on the bleeding. It was strange to be so close to the hunter and to feel his warm skin under his hands as he reached underneath his body to wrap the bandage around his belly.

“What do you mean?” the same guard asked him, a wary frown on his face.

“I mean your leader has the Spanish flu,” Jonathan replied, giving the guard a cold look. He almost enjoyed the man’s apparent shock, the visible drain of blood in his face as realisation hit him.

“You can help him though, can’t you?” the elderly guard stepped in before the other could react, looking first at Jonathan, then at Geoffrey.

“I’ll do my best – _if_ you let me,” Jonathan said, sounding angrier than intended.

“Of course we will,” the guard replied, but he looked warningly at his fellow Priwen guards, not at the doctor.

Jonathan hesitated. It felt wrong being among the men who had been hunting him since the day he was turned. It felt wrong, and yet he sensed their anxious eyes on him, their silent pleas to save their leader. “Where do you want to take him?” he asked the guards, making up his mind. “It’s either your place or the Pembroke, so what’ll it be?” He was growing impatient and didn’t like it one bit how the guards stared at him, but he realised they were as hesitant about leading him to their headquarters as they were worried about their leader. “Look, if I wanted to kill McCullum, I would have done so by now,” Jonathan said, half aggressive, half appeasing. “You asked me to help him, so at least give me a chance to do so.”

“All right,” the elderly guard finally said, stepping forth and picking up Reid’s medical bag. “Follow us.”

As they hadn’t brought a stretcher along, Jonathan gently lifted the hunter into a sitting position, removing the coat from underneath his head and spreading it over his upper body instead to keep him warm. Putting his other arm under his knees, he picked Geoffrey up as if the big Irishman didn’t weigh a thing. He could hardly believe they really wanted to take him to their headquarters, though perhaps him knowing its location was a price they were willing to pay in order to save McCullum’s life.

“If you try anything, doctor, we won’t hesitate to end your wretched existence,” the big guard hissed, and he shot Jonathan a venomous look. He didn’t like seeing his leader in the arms of a bloody leech, doctor or not.

Jonathan snorted. He didn’t cling that much to his “wretched existence,” as they called it, but they didn’t need to know that. “I won’t,” he said. “The fact that I came here, not knowing whether this was another of your traps, that should count for something, right? And so far I haven’t bitten anyone, even though yous smell delicious with all that adrenaline and fear running through your veins,” he chaffed.

“Fuckin’ leeches,” the guard spat, but he realised that the ekon wasn’t being serious about it, “just follow us and try to behave.”

Jonathan did his best not to irritate the guards on their way to Priwen headquarters. By now, Geoffrey was hardly conscious, so he hoped it wasn’t much further. The guards were keeping their distance, anxiously glancing at their leader and the ekon carrying him. He didn’t really know why he cared – and he certainly didn’t like it either – but he started to feel genuinely worried about McCullum.

“Doctor? How is he doing?” the elderly guard asked.

“Well, it would help if he could get proper medical treatment soon.”

The guard nodded, noticing the stress in Reid’s voice. “We’re almost there.” He pointed to an inconspicuous brick building with boarded up windows and couldn’t help but smile at the ekon’s confusion; the doctor must have walked past their HQ a few times, apparently not suspecting anything. “Could we, uh, please consider this neutral territory?”

“Neutral territory?”

“Geoff will probably kill us for bringing a leech to HQ, and if you raise hell here, he’ll kill us all over again.”

Jonathan actually laughed at that. “I won’t raise hell, I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan did his best to ignore the fact that he was surrounded by Priwen guards, and on their turf – in McCullum’s office, actually. It made his skin crawl, and part of his mind was screaming at him to get the hell out of here at once. He clenched his jaw, ignoring the feeling of immediate threat.

The room had surprised him; he’d somehow assumed that as the leader of the bunch McCullum would have better amenities, but the hunter’s office reminded him much of his own room at the Pembroke. There was a large desk with stacks of paper and books, a respectable library, a small wardrobe and a rack with several guns and swords. At the far end of the room there was a stove, similar to what they’d had in the war, and a large bed – apparently the only luxury McCullum allowed himself.

He had also been surprised that the elderly guard, who had eventually introduced himself as Captain Richardson, had insisted on bringing McCullum here instead of the infirmary; maybe it was for the better though, considering the danger of infecting the other patients. Luckily, the ekon had to fear none of that.

He ordered the guards to clear the desk because he didn’t want to mess up the bed, and asked for warm water, soap and a cloth. Richardson sent one of the guards to fetch whatever the doctor needed and dismissed the others.

Carefully laying the barely conscious hunter on the desk, Jonathan started to undress him in order to get access to the wounds. Taking off the heavy coat – he was sure Geoffrey would kill him if he cut it instead – he caught a whiff of blood, sweat and something else. McCullum’s scent. Even though it immediately reminded him of the fight in the attic, Jonathan found that he actually liked it. He even fancied he could detect the same sweetness in it that he’d tasted in the hunter’s blood that night. He swallowed, forcing himself not to think about that fight – or Geoffrey’s scent, for that matter.

“Do you need any help?” Richardson asked. Judging by the look in his face, he was repeating the question.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, it’s all right. I’ll tend to his wounds first, then we’ll see about the rest.”

“Will he make it?” Richardson asked in a husky voice, barely audible. He was pale, and Jonathan noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

“I promise to do all I can,” Jonathan replied in a low voice. “He’s a strong man, your leader, so I think chances are good despite his injuries. Look,” he continued after a short moment, seeing the captain hesitate, “I _will_ do anything to save his life – even if I’m the very creature he’s sworn to kill.”

Richardson didn’t fail to hear the bitterness in the doctor’s words. Strangely enough, Reid seemed as honest as genuinely worried about Geoffrey, and, even more strangely, he felt he could trust the ekon, at least for the time being. “He’s not a bad man, you know,” he said before turning to sit on the bed, watching while the doctor tended to the hunter’s wounds. “I’ll let you work – but one false move and I’ll kill you,” he warned, unholstering the pistol, though he didn’t aim it at the ekon.

Geoffrey had been badly injured in the attack and lost a lot of blood. Jonathan did his best not to breathe and to ignore the blood when he turned the hunter to check his backside for injuries. He was glad to find none except for a few bruises. He was also glad that McCullum didn’t complain about his state of undress, though he must have felt uncomfortable at the ekon’s cool hands on his body. Jonathan asked the captain to put more fire in the stove so that the hunter would at least not be cold before he turned his attention to the more severe injuries. He cleaned the wound on Geoffrey’s left arm first, the deep gash still oozing blood.

“I’ll need to put stitches in that,” Jonathan said, as much to himself as to the hunter, as he readied his tools, sat down and reached for Geoffrey’s arm. He gently grabbed his hand, pulling it towards him, gripping it for a second. “I’ll give you something for the pain.”

“I-- I can take it,” Geoffrey panted, his feverish eyes glaring at the ekon.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jonathan said, brows furrowed in worry. “Morphine’ll make it easier.” He once more gripped Geoffrey’s hand before he readied a syringe. The hunter winced when he injected his thigh. “There,” Jonathan murmured, running a hand across Geoffrey’s forehead and through his damp hair, “you’ll feel better in a moment.”

Geoffrey groaned, trying to ignore the throbbing pain from his injuries and focus on the soothing touch of the ekon’s cool hand on his forehead. It didn’t take long for the morphine to spread, along with a pleasant numbness, and he relaxed slightly.

“This might hurt a bit,” Jonathan warned before he pushed the needle through the flesh and started pulling the edges of the wound together. He caught himself being extra careful to put in nice and even stitches, already thinking about the scar that would remain. Geoffrey held still throughout the procedure, but his clenched jaw betrayed the pain. “Almost done here,” Jonathan said quietly, putting fresh gauze on the wound and gingerly wrapping a bandage around the hunter’s arm.

Making sure that the leg wound had stopped bleeding, Jonathan removed the makeshift dressing on the wounds on Geoffrey’s side and belly, careful not to disturb the wound too badly. “Could you give me a hand here for a moment?” Jonathan asked the captain, who jumped from the bed and rushed towards the desk. He handed him some gauze, asking him to mop up the blood which had begun trickling from the cut down Geoffrey’s stomach, dripping onto the desk.

A moan of pain broke from the hunter’s lips when Jonathan disinfected the long cut again; the torn skin was of an angry red, but it was a fairly clean cut so the doctor decided to stitch it, without having to remove any damaged tissue. Geoffrey did his best not to shy away from the needle breaking the skin, eyes shut tightly, tears forming in the corners.

“Breathe, Geoffrey,” Jonathan whispered, brushing across the hunter’s forehead. He swallowed hard. It didn’t often happen that he saw the person rather than the body, but when he did, it made his work unpleasantly harder; when he pushed the needle through the flesh and tugged on the thread, he felt the pain as if it were his own. The sweet smell of fresh blood made it even harder to concentrate, even though the captain was a good assistant, dabbing it away quickly. “There, we’re nearly done,” Jonathan finally said, taking a step back to look at his work before dressing the wound with gauze and bandages.

“Thanks, Captain,” he said.

Richardson just nodded as he went back to sit on the bed. This time, he didn’t grab the gun, instead he just watched the leech work concentratedly on the last wound that needed tending to. Even though Reid had clearly been affected by the sight and smell of the blood, he hadn’t as much as bared his fangs, the guard had noticed. He’d never seen any vampire show that much restrain, in fact, and for the first time this evening he felt himself relax a bit. Maybe Geoffrey wouldn’t kill them after all for bringing the leech into their headquarters.

Jonathan did his best to regain some of his professional distance when he unlaced Geoffrey’s boots and took off the heavy footwear, his socks and trousers. He wiped away the dried blood, relieved to find that that the blood flow running down the pale skin and soaking the hunter’s pants had almost ceased. Disinfecting and closing the wound didn’t take too long, and the morphine was thankfully doing its job.

“How are you feeling?” Jonathan asked when he finished bandaging the hunter’s thigh, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

“Shite,” Geoffrey rasped huskily. “Everything hurts, my head is about to fuckin’ burst, my throat’s burnin’ and I feel cold and sick and-- awful.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Jonathan said quietly and gingerly picked the hunter up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Richardson quickly stood up from the mattress and threw back the blanket. He’d never seen Geoffrey in such a miserable state: pale and shaking, panting heavily and unsuccessfully trying to bite back moans of pain.

Going to the wardrobe to look for a clean pair of underpants, Jonathan asked the captain to get McCullum a drink. Richardson hesitated, but then he left the room, convinced that Reid wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of patching the Priwen leader up just to suck him dry as soon as he was alone with him.

Geoffrey blushed slightly when the doctor changed his underpants, careful not to disturb the wound on his leg. The ekon was very close to him, though Reid didn’t seem to notice.

“Take your dirty hands off me,” Geoffrey croaked. He had meant to sound intimidating, but his voice was so shaky and hoarse it made him wince at how vulnerable he sounded.

“My hands aren’t dirty,” Jonathan retorted tiredly, a bit offended, but once he’d tucked Geoffrey in, he stepped away from the bed.

“I don’t care, blood drinker,” Geoffrey hissed, “I don’t want your fuckin’ help. Why don’t you just go back to your hospital and pester someone else?” For a second he regretted his words, seeing that they hit the mark. “Fuckin’ leech,” the muttered, turning his face away.

“You think I _like_ being here?” Jonathan quietly asked after a short moment. “You think I like being surrounded by people who want nothing more than to kill me?” He swallowed. “I’m only here because your men begged me to help you, and, frankly, I think you do need my help. But if my presence here is such an abhorrence to you, I’ll go. If you want to, I can try to convince one of the nurses from Pembroke to come round and look after you.”

“I don’t want anyone from Pembroke to fuckin’ come round and look after me,” Geoffrey barked. He was angry at himself for having told Reid to fuck off, because, if he was honest to himself, he thought that he needed the doctor’s help, too.

Jonathan nodded, then he briskly packed his bag and went towards the door. “I’ll instruct your men on what to do about the wounds and the flu. Just keep in mind that you’re putting them at risk, so it’s better if they keep their distance.”

Just as he grabbed the doorknob, Geoffrey’s husky voice rang out: “Reid, wait.”

Jonathan turned around, waiting patiently for the hunter to continue.

“I…,” Geoffrey began, “I’m sorry.” He was panting, struggling to find the right words, but Jonathan also noticed his pale face turning a shade of greenish white. It was merely his reflexes as a doctor that made him jump towards the hunter’s bed, holding the basin in front of him as he threw up.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Geoffrey groaned, spitting out. “Thank you.” He let his head drop back exhaustedly, resting it against Jonathan’s shoulder without thinking about it.

Jonathan sighed. He didn’t like how snug the hunter’s warm body fit against him and how comfortable he felt in the man’s presence, even though he knew how wrong it was. When the door opened, he started, though he was well able to hide it.

“I made tea,” Captain Richardson said when he came in. He didn’t seem to find anything strange about the doctor sitting on McCullum’s bed, holding him close. He just handed him the cup and took the basin from him without a word. “Do you need to go back tonight or can you stay for a while?” he asked, giving Jonathan a pleading look.

“I… can stay,” Jonathan shrugged his shoulders. ‘Though I’d rather not,’ he thought but didn’t say.

“Thank you,” Richardson said, then: “Could I have a quick word with you?”

Jonathan nodded and took his arm from behind Geoffrey’s back to get up.

“Dr Reid,” the captain began, scratching his head, “I know you’d rather not be here, and, well… we’d rather you weren’t, either, but--” He hesitated. “You can take care of Geoff, right? I mean because of the flu, you can’t get infected, can you?”

Jonathan raised a brow at that. He wasn’t going to grace that with an answer.

“We appreciate your help. Look, I’m really worried about him… don’t know what’d happen if he-- if Geoffrey--” He trailed off. “He’s a good leader.”

Jonathan sighed. “My existence would actually be a lot easier if your lot weren’t so well led, you know. I swore an oath though, so I’ll still do my best to help McCullum – if you and your men promise not to try and kill me.”

“We won’t – if you promise to keep your fangs to yourself and leave our lads alone.”

A low moan from McCullum got the doctor’s attention.

“You goin’ to be sick again?” Jonathan asked, going back to Geoffrey’s bed.

The hunter shook his head. “Just leave me alone, leech,” he groaned. He hated being so vulnerable, particularly in the ekon’s presence. Illness always lured out his worst side, he knew that. “Fred, please make sure that Reid stays even if I behave like a bastard,” he said hoarsely.

Jonathan rubbed a hand over his face, giving Richardson an exasperated look.

“And make sure the lads treat him all right,” Geoffrey went on. “And would you please go find Kieron and send him here?”

“Sure,” the captain said.

“And could you leave me alone for a bit, please? You know I hate people watching me suffer,” Geoffrey groaned.

“Want me to leave, too?” Jonathan asked when the captain had gone.

“No.” Geoffrey hated himself for begging the leech to stay, but he did. “Please don’t go. I know you take pleasure in watching me die.” He gave the ekon a tired smile.

Jonathan laughed at that. “Naturally. But you’re not going to die, I’ll make sure of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan watched the hunter in his sleep. He was restless, sweating and moaning quietly. From time to time the ekon wiped his forehead and chest with a cloth and put a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. Geoffrey was burning up, and the fever was getting worse. Jonathan would have preferred to get back to the Pembroke, still feeling like trapped in a lion’s den, but he was almost certain that leaving McCullum to the care of the Priwen medics would be his death warrant – and possibly theirs, too. He’d seen more than enough patients succumb to the Spanish flu, watching on helplessly as they died in agony, beyond any help. He couldn’t take another of those deaths, not now, after the epidemic had almost come to an end and after he’d stopped the disaster.

At least Kieron seemed to be happy enough about his presence here, Jonathan mused as he turned to pet the black cat sleeping curled up in his lap. When the captain had let him in earlier in the night, the cat had jumped right onto the bed, carefully sniffing and nudging the hunter. He seemed confused, and his yellow eyes looked at Jonathan reproachfully, as if he was to blame for Geoffrey’s unresponsiveness. He mewled, then sat down to diligently clean his fur before hopping on Jonathan’s knees.

“Reid?”

The hunter’s faint voice drew Jonathan’s attention back to the present. “I’m right here, McCullum. How are you feeling?”

“Bloody headache,” Geoffrey groaned. “Hurts.” A violent cough shook him, and Jonathan helped him sit up. “Fuckin’ hell,” Geoffrey whispered when the fit was over. He helplessly clutched his side, but Jonathan sensed no fresh blood, so at least the wound hadn’t reopened.

“Here, have a drink,” Jonathan said, grabbing the cup and holding it against Geoffrey’s lips.

Geoffrey wanted to protest, telling Reid not to feed him tea as if he couldn’t hold that cup by himself and to move the fuck away, but he lacked the strength – and much to his dismay he suddenly realised that he didn’t mind the ekon’s presence. He wondered briefly whether that was the leech playing games with his mind, him being in no state to defend himself, but Reid’s concern felt genuine. Swallowing was painful, but the doctor was adamant that he drank up.

“Try to get some sleep,” Reid said in a soft voice, readjusting the pillow in Geoffrey’s back.

It was only now that the hunter seemed to become aware of Kieron’s presence. He glared at the ekon, then at the cat.

“Reid,” he growled hoarsely, “what do you think you’re doing with my cat?”

“What?” Jonathan looked at him in, puzzled.

“Why is the traitor sleeping on your lap?” the hunter demanded.

“Why not?” The ekon laughed out when he realised that Geoffrey was probably as jealous as he was worried for his cat’s well-being. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite him.”

“I’ll kill you if you do!” Geoffrey hissed. “And don’t touch him, otherwise he’s goin’ ta stink of leech!” This time, the venom was missing in his voice, and Jonathan saw the edges of his mouth curl into an involuntary grin the hunter quickly tried to hide.

“Leeches don’t stink,” Jonathan replied politely. “At least ekons don’t,” he quickly corrected himself as the hunter snorted, clearly thinking of the demented, half-decayed skals roaming the streets. “Like I said,” he continued, “I won’t harm him.”

Geoffrey was about to say something in reply, but another coughing fit ripped through him. He knew well enough that Keiron wasn’t stupid – it was, after all, his cat – and more than capable of knowing who meant him harm and who didn’t. It was strange that he had chosen Reid of all people; Geoffrey knew his cat to be picky about who he’d settle with, never even going near strangers.

“Just know that I trained him to hunt leeches as well, and that he’s also called Master Murder,” he said in a sulky tone, when his eyes suddenly narrowed. “You didn’t do any of your leechy shite on my cat, did you Reid?!” he asked suspiciously.

Jonathan laughed. “No, I’d never do that. Cats just like me, hunter.” He gave Geoffrey a teasing grin. “Now try to get some sleep so you’ll soon be up and about again and capable of defending your cat against any leechy shite.”

Geoffrey growled but decided to simply ignore the purring cat, who was apparently perfectly at ease with himself and the world. “How do you do it?” he asked instead when the ekon put a hand on his forehead to measure the temperature once more. The touch was cool and soothing, and Geoffrey regretted its loss when the hand was withdrawn.

Jonathan knew the hunter was talking about his thirst and his refusal to feed on humans. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Bollocks,” McCullum rasped. “‘course you have a choice. You need blood, don’t you?”

Jonathan nodded.

“Then how do you resist the urge to feed?”

The ekon hesitated. “I _do_ feed. Just not on humans.”

“But you drank from me in the attic. I… I was certain you’d kill me when you bit me, but then you just stopped. Is my blood so repellent?”

Jonathan was caught off guard by the hunter’s prying questions, and the absurdity of that assumption made him laugh. “Your blood is not repellent, McCullum,” he finally replied. “Quite the opposite.”

Geoffrey gave him a wary look, blushing slightly underneath the ghostly pallor. “Wha’s that s’posed to mean?” he asked reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to hear the answer.

The ekon gave him a peculiar, almost sad smile. “It means that ever since I first tasted you I’ve been wanting to drink from you again because your blood is the most delicious and sating thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“You leeches are fuckin’ creeps,” Geoffrey said after a short moment, though he sounded amused rather than revolted. Another bout of coughing ripped through him and he bent forward in pain.

“There’s really no need to throw up because of my infatuation,” Jonathan joked, supporting the hunter with a hand on his back.

“Your _infatuation_?” Geoffrey gasped when he’d recovered from the coughing. “Fuck me, Reid, you are even creepier than the rest of your bunch.”

“I’m sorry. You asked, though.”

“But you didn’t answer. Why did you stop?” The hunter sounded exhausted.

Jonathan sighed. “I didn’t want to kill you, McCullum. I never considered you my enemy, you know that.” He hesitated. “I killed someone- the night I awoke a vampire, when your men hunted me down. I didn’t-- understand what was happening to me, I was blind with thirst and--” he trailed off, rubbing his hands over his face to keep the pain in check. “I tried to kill myself that night, shot myself in the chest, but-- it didn’t work. I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to lose that last bit of humanity that I still have, y’know.”

Geoffrey was surprised by the ekon’s honesty and didn’t know what to reply to his admission.

“I trust you will use that against me, hunter?” Jonathan said, half joking, half serious, noticing Geoffrey’s loss for words.

“Of course I will, leech,” the hunter snapped, but they both knew he wouldn’t. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, this time in earnest.

“I’ll go make you some more tea,” Jonathan said, putting a hand on the hunter’s shoulder, then he got up and moved curled-up Kieron to lie on the blanket next to Geoffrey. “You think I can go to the kitchen without your lads trying to kill me?”

When Jonathan came back, Geoffrey was still awake. He looked at the ekon with bloodshot eyes. “You survived.”

“Yes.” Jonathan smiled. “Bumped into one of the guards though. Young lad called Duncan? He seemed friendly enough.”

“He is.” Geoffrey sighed. “Stupid kid’ll try to be friends even with a fuckin’ leech.”

“Nothing wrong with that, you know,” Jonathan teased, then he went to sit next to the hunter to give him a drink.

“You know, Reid,” the hunter rasped, “I don’t trust you, I… cannot trust a leech.” He coughed violently, then dropped his head against the doctor’s shoulder in exhaustion. “But I appreciate your help, and… I won’t mind if you stay here a wee longer.”

“I don’t trust you either, McCullum,” Jonathan said, “but as long as you’re stuck in bed and down with the Spanish flu, I feel quite safe. And I will stay as long as I’m needed here. Now get some sleep, you need it.”

“Don’t you, too? It’ll be dawn soon.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jonathan said, realising with a warm feeling spreading in his guts that the hunter was in fact concerned for his safety.

Geoffrey shrugged weakly. “At least make sure to close the curtains, Reid.”

When Jonathan woke up the next night, he was no longer in McCullum’s room but found himself lying in an unfamiliar bed. A guard was sitting on a chair beside him.

“Captain Richardson didn’t think sleepin’ in that chair was very comfortable, so he asked me to carry you here,” he boomed.

Jonathan clenched his teeth. He was fairly upset by the fact that a Priwen brawler had put him to bed, tucked him in even – and, to make things worse, he hadn’t woken up or noticed anything.

The guard grinned at the ekon’s consternated face. “Your lot seems fairly easy to kill after all,” he chuckled. “Name’s McIntyre by the way.”

“We’re not easy to kill,” Jonathan growled. “I would have woken up if you’d have tried to stick a knife between my ribs or some such.”

“Aye, whatever, Doctor,” the brawler shrugged. “Sleepin’ here was better though, wasn’t it?”

“It was, thank you.” Jonathan replied politely, then swung his legs out of bed and took a careful look at the guard. “You seem quite unfazed by my presence.”

“I’m not afraid of leeches,” McIntyre scoffed, handing him his shoes. “’sides, I saw how ye are takin’ care of Geoff, and Murderkitten likes you, figured you can’t be such a bastard.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Do you even realise how annoying your lot are?” He shook his head, deciding to ignore the guard’s amusement. “How is McCullum?” he asked instead.

“Not very good, I think. Still won’t let anyone near him.”

Jonathan nodded. “It’s better if you do stay away, you don’t want to get infected.” He got up. “Let’s go, I should check on him.”

“Aye, come with me.”

“Do you happen to have a decent cook, by the way?” Jonathan asked as McIntyre led him to the Priwen leader’s room.

“A cook? Fuck naw, we used to have one, but he quit durin’ the epidemic, the stupid bastard. We weren’t that annoyin’ when we were well fed, y’know? Anyway, Richardson cooks tolerably well, but he’s usually too busy to stand in the kitchen for hours, cookin’ for us. Why you askin’?”

“McCullum’ll need proper meals to get back on his feet.”

McIntyre nodded. “Well, I can’t help with that. Ye might want to ask Duncan, the lad sometimes lends a hand with cookin’.”

“Can I use the kitchen then?”

“I s’pose so. If you don’t cook any blood or whatever you leeches do.” The guard gave him a curious look. “Actually, I didn’t think you _can_ cook, Dr Reid.”

Jonathan shrugged. “There’s a lot Priwen doesn’t know about me, McIntyre.”


	4. Chapter 4

McIntyre had been right. Geoffrey wasn’t doing good.

Richardson was sitting in the chair next to the bed, though he was keeping his distance to the patient. He jumped when Jonathan entered the room. “Dr Reid!” he exclaimed, seeming genuinely relieved to see the ekon. “How did you sleep?” he asked, giving him a guarded look.

“I slept fine,” Jonathan grumbled. “But I don’t like being manhandled by Priwen guards. Especially when I’m sleeping.”

“I apologise for that, Doctor,” the captain gave him a guilty look. “I’m glad you stayed,” he said, careful not to upset the ekon further. “Should we send someone to the Pembroke to let them know you’re still here?” he asked, silently implying that he hoped Jonathan would stay to take care of the Priwen leader.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Jonathan replied sullenly. Since Edgar’s death, the task of managing the hospital had fallen to Dr Ackroyd, who wasn’t overly fond of Reid and probably wouldn’t consider his absence too great a loss.

Richardson seemed to notice his sudden unease. “It’s not a problem, we’ll send someone,” he said, ignoring Jonathan’s frown. “Will you be needing anything from the hospital?”

Jonathan shook his head. It seemed that he was stuck here for the time being, but he realised he wasn’t truly unhappy about it – after all, it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him, let alone missing him.

“All right, I’ll leave you to it then,” the captain said quietly, glancing worriedly at McCullum. “If you need anything, let me or one of the other guards know.”

Jonathan nodded his thanks and went over to check on the hunter.

Geoffrey was conscious and awake, gazing warily at the ekon. “Reid,” he croaked but didn’t continue.

“How are you feeling, McCullum?” Jonathan noticed beads of perspiration on the hunter’s forehead, and it was impossible to miss how much he was struggling to breathe.

“Tired.” He was almost as pale as the ekon, his lips were dry and cracked, and strands of damp hair were sticking to his forehead.

Jonathan brushed them away. “Wounds bother you much? Do you mind if I have a look at them?”

“Would it change anything if I did?”

“I think so,” Jonathan nodded. “I’ll ask one of your medics or guards to do it,” he offered.

“Don’t bother,” Geoffrey said curtly. The bloody leech had already seen his private parts, so it didn’t make much of a difference, and he preferred to keep his miserable state from his men as best as possible. He wasn’t concerned about them worrying about him, he just didn’t want them to see him weak and – which was even worse – at the mercy of a blood drinker.

Jonathan ruffled Kieron’s fur until the black cat gave a steady purr, then he pulled back the blanket. Blood had seeped through the dressing on the hunter’s thigh. He hoped he didn’t need to stitch it again. “I need to put a fresh bandage on this,” he said quietly, trying to ignore McCullum’s discomfort at the touch of his cool hands as he carefully pushed up the pant leg. “Have you eaten today?” he asked the hunter as he unwrapped the bandage.

“Not hungry,” Geoffrey mumbled. “Fred had me drink tea until I thought me bladder was goin’ to burst,” he groaned.

Jonathan chuckled. “Your bladder all right now?”

“You mockin’ me, Reid?” the hunter glared at him.

“No, I’m not,” Jonathan replied softly, then he changed the subject. “The wound looks rather bad, but it isn’t infected. Are you able to walk?” he asked as he put a fresh dressing on it.

Geoffrey moaned in pain and closed his eyes. He was so exhausted that it took him a moment to reply. “Didn’t try, hurts like fuck when I move it.”

“All right,” Jonathan gave the hunter a light pat on the shoulder, then he put the blanket back over his lower body. “I’ll just check on your other wounds, then I’ll leave you in peace.”

Even though the doctor’s hands were unpleasantly cool, the touch itself wasn’t. Geoffrey felt strangely comfortable in Reid’s presence and didn’t want him to leave, but he attributed that to the fever and his inability to think straight because of the dull ache behind his eyes. He coughed harshly and, without thinking, grabbed the ekon’s hand, gripping it hard as the pain stabbed through his side. When Jonathan put an arm around him, he leant into the touch, vaguely glad that none of his men could see him now.

“Just breathe,” Jonathan said, gently rubbing the hunter’s back. He didn’t even care about how inappropriate this was, feeling that Geoffrey didn’t, either. He waited until the coughing and spasms subsided, then he got up to get the stethoscope from his medical bag. Sitting back down next to the hunter, he propped him up. “This is going to be cold.”

A shiver ran through Geoffrey’s body.

“I won’t bite you, don’t be afraid,” Jonathan said.

“I’m not afraid of you, Reid” the hunter growled, when he suddenly realised that the ekon could actually tell that he was. “At least my _mind_ isn’t,” he added very quietly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

Jonathan smiled. “That’s good.” He put the stethoscope on Geoffrey’s back, listening intently with closed eyes. Hearing Geoffrey’s body instead of seeing it in the blood coursing through him and feeling the warmth of his skin under his palm suddenly seemed like such an intimate thing to Jonathan that he abruptly removed his hand. He got up, reassured by what he’d heard. “I’ll go make you some more tea, and something to eat,” he said, tucking the hunter in. “I’ll be back soon, get some rest in the meantime.”

Upon entering the kitchen, Jonathan found the same young guard sitting at a table, reading. He looked up at the sound of the door.

“Dr Reid!” he said, getting up.

“Duncan, right? What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked suspiciously. The guard didn’t look threatening, on the contrary, but the ekon was still very uneasy about being surrounded by Priwen.

“Mr McIntyre said you’d need some groceries and sent me to buy some.” The doctor looked at him in surprise. “There wasn’t much, but I found some onions, taters and carrots. Some meat, too, and, I, err, got you this,” the guard said, grabbing a bottle standing on the table and holding it out to Jonathan. “I figured you must be… thirsty.”

Jonathan frowned, unsure of the offer.

“It’s beef, got it from the butcher’s,” Duncan said with a sympathetic smile. He didn’t seem alarmed by the vampire’s presence, even his heartbeat remained calm and steady. As the doctor didn’t move, he reached for a glass, filled it and offered it to ekon.

Jonathan hesitated for a short moment, then he took it. He turned around to drink so the guard wouldn’t see it. “Thank you,” he mumbled, licking his lips. The fresh blood made him feel considerably better.

“So, shall we cook something?” Duncan asked, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.

Even though he couldn’t even taste the food, Jonathan enjoyed working in the kitchen with Duncan. While the guard prepared the meat and bones for the broth, Jonathan washed and cut the vegetables. The guard turned out to be chatty and curious lad. He wouldn’t stop asking the ekon questions about unlife as a vampire, whether he enjoyed his leechy abilities and how he managed to refrain from eating people and behave so civilised.

“Y’know,” he said, cutting the meat, “the leeches I’ve seen… they _enjoyed_ feeding on humans – why don’t you?”

Jonathan sighed. “It’s… complicated.” He hesitated. “It’ll take time to explain.” What he really meant was that it would take time to get to know Duncan before trusting him enough to explain. “Still difficult to get food here?” he asked, trying to change the topic.

The guard nodded. “Yes, though it was much worse during the war. Veggies and meat were almost impossible to get… I really don’t know how they always managed to feed us.” He shrugged, looking away. Those years weren’t something he was comfortable talking about. “So what now?”

“Roast it.” Jonathan put some lard in a skillet and put it on the fire, waiting for it to heat up, then he put in the meat, bones and vegetables.

Duncan watched him intently, surprised at the doctor’s apparent experience in the kitchen. “Where did you learn that?” he asked.

“I used to watch my mother cook,” Jonathan said quietly. He felt a knot build in his throat at the memory as he remembered Mary and himself sitting at the kitchen table, watching their mother, or sometimes Avery, prepare the meals. His mother had usually insisted on doing it, even though some would have considered it unbefitting for a banker’s wife. He and his sister would sometimes help her, and she always let them taste everything and lick out the bowls. He swallowed hard. In his youth, he loved to cook, and he missed it during his time at the medical school, where he hardly ever took the time to eat a proper meal, let alone cook one. Later, in the trenches, there was no decent food to be had at all and he missed the family meals even worse.

“That’s how you learned it? Just by watching?” Duncan interrupted his thoughts. “Will you teach me then?” he asked hopefully when Jonathan nodded.

“I, er, might not be the best teacher, being limited to drinking blood.” Jonathan bared his fangs in almost helpless despair.

“Well, it _smells_ good,” Duncan said, pointing at the food roasting in the pan, then, after a short moment, he suddenly asked: “Don’t you miss it?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I like the smell. But I don’t hunger for it. What I miss is not the food but sitting at a table with others, eating with them, like a normal person.”

“What happens when you eat… normal food?”

Jonathan sighed. He had tried that more than once. “I can’t keep it down. And it doesn’t even taste good anymore. Besides, nobody wants to share their table with a leech anyway,” Jonathan added, trying to sound light.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Duncan replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Then you’re about the only exception I know,” Jonathan grumbled sullenly as he moved the vegetables and meat in the skillet.

“I ought to go back to McCullum,” he finally said. “Can you finish here on your own? Just put in two or three bay leaves, if you have those, and pepper and salt. It’ll need to boil for a few hours.”

“Of course,” Duncan replied, happy that the doctor trusted his cooking abilities – and he knew he had enough experience not to screw it up. “I’ll bring it up once it’s done,” he said, then he hesitated. “May I have some of it, too?” he asked, almost shily.

Jonathan looked at him for a second, then it hit him. “Of course! Just make sure that McCullum gets enough of it today and tomorrow. In fact,” he reached for the wallet in his vest, taking out a few notes, handing them to the young guard, “make sure to get some decent food, some meat, vegetables and fruit, perhaps some eggs if you can get any – for McCullum and your lot,” he added quietly.

Duncan took the money, knowing too well how desperately they needed food, and aware of the fact that refusing to accept money from Reid for whatever proud reasons would be falsely and unnecessarily polite. “Will do, thank you very much. And you ought to go back to check on Mr McCullum, please,” he said.

Jonathan nodded. As much as he – to his own surprise – enjoyed cooking with the lad, he caught himself thinking about the hunter more often than he liked to admit. He didn’t quite know why he worried so much about him and he certainly didn’t want to try and find out. It was like a strange pull that drew him towards McCullum, even though he knew very well the man hated him for what he was.

Geoffrey was awake when Jonathan got back. He looked at the ekon with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Reid!” he groaned. “Thought you’d left for good.”

Jonathan briefly wondered whether McCullum was disappointed that he was still here, but there was no malice in his voice.

“I was cooking. With Duncan. And I made you tea and brought you an apple.”

Geoffrey snorted. “Cookin’? With Duncan? I’m not sure whether I should be worried or relieved,” he grumbled. He sounded exhausted.

“Did you manage to sleep a bit?” Jonathan asked, moving to sit beside him, then he started to cut up the apple.

The hunter shook his head. “I’m freezing,” he whispered hoarsely, “and my whole body hurts.”

Jonathan put a hand on his forehead. Despite shivering from cold, the hunter’s face was glowing from fever. “I’ll put some more wood on the fire,” he offered, but Geoffrey held him back.

“No, stay.”

McCullum’s plea sent an unexpected surge of warmth through the ekon’s guts. It probably showed on his face, but he didn’t really care, and the hunter was too exhausted to notice. He cleared his throat. “You ought to drink some more.”

“I worry about my bladder.”

Jonathan gave him a warm chuckle in response. “I’m a doctor, I can deal with a patient’s full bladder,” he said, brushing over the hunter’s forehead. “Come here,” he said, helping Geoffrey sit up to let him drink. “You should also eat something,” he gently reminded him, offering him the apple wedges on his open palm.

“Thanks,” Geoffrey whispered. At least Reid didn’t go as far as feeding them to him, he thought as he chewed on the apple, though he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed for it. He felt less cold with the ekon so close to him, despite knowing full well that the vampire wasn’t even _warm_.

“Get some sleep while Duncan finishes cooking,” Jonathan suggested. He didn’t move away but kept his arm wrapped around the hunter’s shivering body, waiting for him to fall asleep and trying to keep his eyes off his exposed neck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no energy left to read all of it before I posted - apologies for spelling and other mistakes! I know it was a long wait, and I'm sorry it's only a short chapter on top of that, but I still hope you'll enjoy reading it. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated!

It was the first time that Jonathan was glad he was no longer alive – he knew that the hunter would almost certainly wake up from his restless sleep if he moved, so he was strangely relieved he didn’t even need to. Didn’t need to breathe, either, though he found he liked it because of McCullum’s smell. He swallowed and suppressed a growl. He knew perfectly well that this was just a temporary truce – the leader of the Priwen Guard might spare him for the time being, but sooner or later, Jonathan was sure, he’d lose what was left of his humanity, knowing that if – _when_ – he slipped, the Irishman would be there, not hesitating one moment to end him.

It was just a matter of time.

A quiet knock on the door broke his reveries. He looked up, but still didn’t move.

“Dr Reid?” It was Duncan, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. He didn’t look surprised when he found the doctor sitting on McCullum’s bed, though he caught himself thinking how ironic it was seeing his leader sleeping in the arms of an ekon doctor. “Finished cooking,” he whispered so as not to wake him.

Jonathan nodded. He thought it better to let the hunter sleep, but then Geoffrey stirred, letting out a small groan.

“Duncan? Wha’re you doin’ here?” he asked in a faint voice as the young guard came to the bed and placed the bowl on the empty chair beside it.

“I brought you something to eat, Mr McCullum,” Duncan said, giving him a guarded smile. He knew that the Priwen leader didn’t want his men to see him weak, but he half-heartedly hoped being an exception since he hardly ever joined any patrols, let alone did any serious fighting. Looking at McCullum, he did his best not to let his worry show.

Geoffrey thanked him weakly; he seemed exhausted, and his pale face was covered in sweat.

“Can I get you anything else?” Duncan asked, though he looked at Jonathan.

The ekon shook his head, then told him that he’d come by the kitchen later. Extricating himself from Geoffrey as soon as the guard had left the room, he helped him sit up against the wall at the head of the bed.

“We both know it’s only going to be a mess if you try to spoon that yourself, McCullum, so let me help you,” he said, pulling the chair close and picking up the bowl.

The hunter grumbled something in reply and shot Reid an angry glare but didn’t protest. He hated being fed, especially by the bloody leech, but the doctor was right, and he lacked the strength to argue anyway. The soup was good though, and Reid did his best to make sure the whole situation wasn’t too awkward.

“How are you feeling, Geoffrey?” Jonathan asked when he’d finished eating.

“Like shit. But a bit better,” Geoffrey mumbled. “And don’t call me Geoffrey, _leech_.” Even though his voice lacked venom, he felt bad about his words the moment he said them. He didn’t need to look at Reid to know they stung.

“My apologies, _McCullum_,” Jonathan muttered, stifling an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He hesitated. “I know you despise me, hate what--“

“I don’t despise you, Reid,” Geoffrey interrupted him. “I hate leeches, true,” he huffed, “but I don’t hate you.”

He gave Jonathan a tired look, and when the ekon studied his bloodshot eyes, he wondered for a short moment whether McCullum might himself be fed up sometimes with constantly being irritable and hateful. “If I did,” Geoffrey continued in the uneasy silence, “I would have killed you already.”

“Well, you tried that, remember?” Jonathan retorted.

Geoffrey snorted. “Hmm, I do,” he admitted sheepishly, giving the ekon a crooked smile. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Why did you spare me?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I told you, I never considered you my enemy.”

“Perhaps not. But I did try to kill you. You defeated me and had me on me knees, so why did you jus’ walk away?”

“Why do you even care?” Jonathan snapped. “I think we both know where we stand, don’t we, McCullum.”

Geoffrey gave him a surprised look, realising how much he must have hurt the doctor with what he’d said, but he was unwilling to back down now. “We do?” he asked, suddenly feeling exhausted and drained.

Jonathan gave him a hollow laugh. “We both know that one day you _will_ end my existence, Geoffrey McCullum,” he said matter-of-factly. “And it will be all right,” he added quietly, then cleared his throat and got up. “You should get some sleep, hunter, I will check on you again later.”

He turned around to leave, but Geoffrey grabbed him by a trouser leg. “Reid, wait. Sit down, I’m not done with you.” Even though the words sounded harsh, his voice was soft.

Jonathan sat back down.

“I want to know why you didn’t kill me when we fought in the attic,” he said, still holding on to Jonathan’s trousers. “And don’t give me your usual shite, doc.”

“My usual shite?” Jonathan raised a brow. “The truth is – I’m not sure.”

“Then _think_,” Geoffrey insisted.

Jonathan sighed, then he grabbed Kieron and put the sleeping cat on his lap. Geoffrey let go of his leg to pet the cat instead. This time he didn’t comment on it or even look displeased about Reid holding the animal.

“I didn’t want to kill you,” Jonathan muttered, scratching Kieron behind his ears. “But I did think about turning you. I wanted so hard to make you see things from my perspective. I wanted you to understand who I’d become, and that I am not the monster you think me to be.” He hesitated. “And I wanted you to be hunted like a beast just like I was, and by your own men,” he admitted in a small voice.

“Why didn’t you?” Geoffrey asked. He’d grown pale at Reid’s words, never having realised how close he’d come to being turned into the one thing he hated most.

“I am not a cruel man,” Jonathan whispered. “And making you… _this_,” he vaguely pointed at himself, “out of spite… I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for that.” He didn’t look at the hunter when he continued, almost inaudibly. “I respect you, McCullum, and I never even wanted to go to war with you and your lot – I’ve had enough of that in the trenches.”

Geoffrey looked at him in surprise. “You _respect_ me?”

Jonathan gave him a sad smile but didn’t reply. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, particularly because he – for some reason or other – didn’t want to lie to McCullum. However, he could hardly admit even to himself that he felt a strange connection to the hunter and had been intrigued by him since the first time they’d met in Swansea’s office.

“Why?” Geoffrey asked. The notion of the ekon respecting him seemed downright absurd. “Because I’m the only one who _nearly_ managed to kill you?”

Jonathan laughed and shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s not your fighting abilities, though I’ll admit they are formidable.” He swallowed, focusing on Kieron’s purr.

“Then what is it?”

“Your dedication,” Jonathan muttered evasively. “I guess,” he finally continued hesitantly, “I was hoping that one day you’d understand I only ever wanted to help. I-- I did my best to prove I wasn’t a monster – but I guess every night that passes proves how wrong I was about that…”

“Wallowing in self-pity now?” Geoffrey asked, half amused.

Jonathan shrugged. “I just wished you could have known me before I became a _leech_, McCullum.” He looked up, giving the hunter a defeated, pained look. “I like to think we could have become good friends.”

To Jonathan’s surprise, the Irishman gave him a soft smile.

“Who knows,” Geoffrey said, “you’re still here, even though I’ve been an arse to you all evening. You see, Reid,” he said, sounding more light-hearted than he really felt, “I’m actually glad you are here, I just… refuse to admit that, y’know?” He was relieved when the ekon laughed at that. “I told you I’d behave like a bastard when I’m ill.”

“Oh, so you’re saying if I just stick around suffering you while you’re dying, we could become friends eventually?” Jonathan said in a sulky tone. “Frankly, you seemed like a bastard even before you were ill with the flu.”

“Yet you still respected me, leech.” This time, it sounded almost like an endearment. “Could I please have another drink,” he begged before Jonathan could reply anything. Somehow, he felt uneasy by Reid’s honesty, suddenly realising that underneath the hatred and hostility he’d felt upon meeting the ekon for the first time in Swansea’s office, there had been curiosity, too. He felt it whenever he looked into Reid’s pale eyes, his anaemic face, trying to read his unperturbed countenance. He tried to ignore the doctor’s gentle touch as he helped him sit upright to drink and convince himself that the vampire’s cold hands felt unpleasant. “Since you want to watch me suffer and die,” he muttered, “you might as well feed me another bowl of soup – I’m insufferable when I’m hungry.”

“Really? I hardly noticed,” Jonathan chuckled, helping the hunter lie down again. “If that’s the case, I’ll get you some more, of course.” He brushed over the hunter’s damp forehead. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Carefully, he put the cat on the bed next to Geoffrey’s legs, petting it a few times before he got up. Again, McCullum did not protest, and for a short moment Jonathan allowed himself to wonder whether he and the Priwen leader might indeed be making some sort of progress here.


	6. Chapter 6

The following evening, Jonathan woke up to the steady drum of rain against the windows. He groaned at the hunger burning in his throat but decided against getting up right away. Burying his face in the crook of his arm, he listened to the sounds coming from downstairs. He heard men talking and laughing, the creaking and slamming of doors as the guards left to patrol the city despite the nasty weather.

They were glad they didn’t have to fight him anymore, McCullum had said, and he’d replied that there had never been a reason to fight him in the first place. Geoffrey knew that they always attacked first, but he hadn’t apologised, and neither had Jonathan, for hurting more than a few of the guards who’d tried to kill him, and badly. Instead, the Priwen leader had suggested jokingly that if he was ever looking for a new position, they’d be happy to take on a talented surgeon.

Jonathan caught himself chuckling at the idea, though he had to admit that it did sound… tempting.

_“A leech doctor at Priwen headquarters?” Jonathan said. “I’m sure your men will be thrilled.”_

_“You are a good doctor, and we could use that,” Geoffrey replied, suddenly unsure whether he really had only been joking about offering Reid a job. “They must already be missing you at the Pembroke.”_

_Jonathan gave him a bitter laugh. “They’re probably wondering where I am, but not missing me.”_

_“Why wouldn’t they?” the hunter asked, honestly surprised._

_“Ever since Swansea’s death… well, things’ve changed, I s’pose,” Jonathan said. “Dr Ackroyd is in charge of running Pembroke now, and he’s never been… overly fond of me.”_

_“Must’ve noticed something was off about you,” Geoffrey surmised._

_“Actually, our disagreement is professional – at least before it became personal. All the staff are worn out and bleary-eyed, so I don’t think my complexion stands out, neither do my unusual sleeping habits.”_

Thinking of Swansea’s death had put him in a gloomy mood – not because he mourned for him, rather because it reminded him of his own loneliness. Geoffrey hadn’t failed to notice, and Jonathan realised that the more he found out about the Irishman, the better he understood why the man had become leader of Priwen and why he was such a dangerous opponent.

_“Do you miss him?” Geoffrey asked. He had felt guilty about the guard being responsible for Swansea’s death, but when they’d found he’d been the reason for what Reid called “the Disaster,” that guilt didn’t weigh so heavily after all._

_“Swansea? No, I don’t.” Jonathan thought for a moment. “It was nice having someone at the Pembroke who knew my-- secret. And he did take me in and offer me a job, for which I can’t help but be grateful.”_

_“It’s not like you weren’t useful to him,” Geoffrey grumbled. “What about that redhead friend of yours then? Is it her you miss?”_

_Jonathan gave him a suspicious glare. “Lady Ashbury? No, not really.” It was the truth, he didn’t particularly miss the ekon, even though she had become something of a mentor to him. There had been a time when he would have been happy to have a woman like her at his side, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. It wasn’t a thought he was comfortable with and he felt decidedly uneasy about McCullum’s curiosity, even though he knew the Priwen leader to be too honourable to use that knowledge against him. “She’s in Scotland,” he added, as if that meant anything._

_“Oh? I thought-“ Geoffrey began, then he broke off, reaching for Kieron sleeping next to him._

Jonathan wondered about that now; the hunter’s reaction had struck him as odd – he had seemed almost relieved. They hadn’t talked much after that, but the silence had not been an unpleasant one. He had watched the hunter drift into an uneasy and restless sleep, occasionally wiped the sweat off his forehead and made sure the wounds weren’t bleeding before he tucked McCullum in and gone to bed.

Even though the hunter had quite obviously done his best to keep his vicious side in check and eventually hadn’t even seem bothered much by his presence anymore and been fairly relaxed, Jonathan was worried about his condition. The fever hadn’t gone up, but it hadn’t abated either, and McCullum was so exhausted he appeared almost apathetic.

“Dr Reid! Are you up?”

Jonathan recognised McIntyre’s bass.

“Yes, I’m awake,” he replied before he sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

Opening the door and peeking in, the guard gave Jonathan a critical look. He didn’t seem to care much about the ekon’s privacy or even the fact that Reid was only wearing underpants, but at least he’d had the decency to knock first.

“McCullum’s still not doing good, think you should check on him, Doc,” he said, giving Jonathan an uneasy look. “Thought you’re probably hungry, so I brought you this.” He waited until Reid had put on his trousers and a shirt before he handed him the bottle he’d brought. “Actually, it was Duncan’s idea,” he added quietly. He thought it ghastly, but it was better than having the doctor feed off of them, he figured.

Jonathan waited in vain for the brawler to leave or at least turn around, but instead McIntyre crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, waiting for the ekon to drink. If he was really honest with himself, he was curious, particularly whether the effect of the blood would be visible or not. “Come on, Doctor,” he urged Jonathan, “it’s not like I’ve never seen an ekon-- feed.”

Jonathan gave him an irritated look, but then opened the bottle, even though he felt embarrassed about his cravings. He drank deeply; the blood was lukewarm, they must have kept it in a warm place, and the heat it brought to his body made his fangs lengthen. He bit back a moan – beef tasted so much better than the filthy rats he forced himself to feed on usually. Licking his lips, he closed the now empty bottle and handed it back to the guard.

“Good?” McIntyre asked, intrigued rather than disgusted. “Duncan insisted on keeping it warm, said surely that must taste better than cold blood. It’s still disgustin’, if you ask me.”

Jonathan growled and bared his fangs in mock aggression. “It might not taste as good as Priwen blood,” he retorted, “but warm is definitely better than cold, yes.”

The guard eyed him curiously. “You look better,” he said in earnest, “more alive… or at least less dead.”

“Why, thanks.” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Who knows, maybe I’ll fit right in if I keep drinking.”

The big guard chuckled. “Yeah, we were going to offer you a position anyway, we could use a good doctor.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure whether he really meant it, but it was the second time the subject was brought up, so perhaps--

“Only if you make sure we can keep our leader though,” McIntyre interrupted his thoughts, giving the ekon a worried yet friendly smile and stepping aside to make way.

Geoffrey was awake when Jonathan came into his room.

“Ye still here?” the hunter asked him when he closed the door. He sounded indifferent, tired.

“I am,” Jonathan simply replied, walking up to the bed. “Brought you some food, too.” Placing a plate on the small table besides the bed, he reached out and put a hand on Geoffrey’s forehead. “You’re burning up, McCullum,” he stated, then beheld the full jug of tea on the table. “Are you at all drinking anything?” he asked with a frown.

Geoffrey shook his head slightly. “I told Richardson to stay away this morning. I don’t want him to get the feckin’ flu. Or any of the others.” He coughed violently, as if to make a point. At least there was no blood, Jonathan thought to himself as he sat down on the chair, filled a glass with tea and held it to the hunter once the fit was over.

“You must drink, McCullum,” he said.

Geoffrey took the glass, but his hand was shaking so much that Jonathan took it from him again, holding it to the hunter’s lips. He thanked him quietly, and Jonathan realised the Irishman was embarrassed, though he wasn’t sure why. “Where’s Kieron?” he asked, distracting Geoffrey.

“Was hungry. Richardson took him to the kitchen, I guess.” He shrugged, hoping the ekon wouldn’t realise how lonely he felt without anyone near him all day and night.

“I’ll make sure to look out for him when I’m in the kitchen,” Jonathan offered. He half expected a snide remark on how Master Murder was going to rip out his throat or would stink of leech again, but McCullum just nodded, closing his eyes, too tired to even argue. It was nice for a change, but it also worried Jonathan. “You hungry?” he asked. “Duncan made you some porridge.”

Geoffrey nodded, grunting as he sat up. He pulled the blanket up to his throat, not only because he was cold but also because he knew the bloody leech would have to feed him again. Reid understood – thankfully he didn’t comment on it, though Geoffrey was still angry at his own helplessness. He’d sworn to himself to never be at the mercy of this feckin’ bloodsucker again, not after their fight in the attic, and here he was, having the bastard look after him as if he cared.

“Are you thinking about how to murder me?” Jonathan asked, giving him a crooked grin.

“Yes,” Geoffrey growled. “That, and wondering whether you really do care about me, or whether this is just some-- leechy ruse,” he added, too honest for his own liking.

“A leechy ruse?” Jonathan repeated as he shoved a spoon of porridge into the hunter’s mouth. “Some ruse if it includes staying with Priwen and feeding you, McCullum,” he huffed, raising a brow. Under the Irishman’s glare, his look softened. “It isn’t, I promise,” he said, his voice so stupidly affectionate that he chose not to spell out the rest of the answer to McCullum’s question.

“I don’t know what scares me more,” Geoffrey replied after a while. It was meant as a joke, but he realised that he really didn’t know what scared him more – a leech so skilled at concealing his true sinister motives, or one who genuinely cared for his well-being.

Jonathan nodded, understanding. He wasn’t sure either what was more frightening – him staying with the man who had done his best to kill him, who _would_ eventually kill him, or that strange warmth spreading in his guts whenever he looked at or thought about that very man. He swallowed, trying to dispel the thoughts that had crept into his mind, focusing on the porridge instead. “Want some more?” he asked. His voice was husky, and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Later, please,” Geoffrey replied. He sounded exhausted.

“May I have a look at your injuries?” Jonathan asked, putting the plate back on the table.

“You’re the doctor, go ahead” Geoffrey muttered, defeatedly.

Jonathan pulled back the blanket, gently grabbed the hunter’s injured arm and unwrapped the bandage. The cut was closing nicely. “Can you move your hand? Or does that hurt?” he asked while putting a fresh gauze on the wound and bandaging it to give it some protection.

Geoffrey flexed his fingers, clenching them into a fist. “Doesn’t hurt,” he croaked as Jonathan put his arm back at his side. He ignored Reid’s hands on his belly, as the doctor took off the bandage and checked the wound. It still hurt, particularly when he was coughing, so he was relieved when Jonathan told him that it was healing well.

“I’m so fed up with this shit,” he blurted out as Jonathan checked on his leg.

“I beg your pardon?”

“This,” Geoffrey groaned. “The feckin’ flu. Fever. Being weak and helpless and bored. Being fed by a bloody leech. I hate it.”

Jonathan nodded, pulling the blanket back over the hunter’s body. “I know. But you’ll be up and about again soon. Just give it time, I will-- take care of the rest.”

“So you’ll stay a bit longer?” Geoffrey asked. This time he didn’t sound indifferent.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Jonathan shrugged, refilling the glass and helping the hunter drink. “I’ll go check on Duncan in the kitchen,” he said, getting up, “and see if I can’t find Kieron. I’ll be back soon; try to get some sleep in the meantime,” he said and brushed across the hunter’s forehead and over his head. “You’re going to be all right,” he reassured him, then he quietly left, looking out for a heartbeat that might be Duncan’s.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't even know what tf I'm doing, or what this chapter is about. Just hoping you'll enjoy the read.  
Next update should be done soon.  
(Hard to believe I started this before the Rona...)

“How is Mr McCullum?” Duncan asked when Jonathan found him in the kitchen. The young guard was sitting at the table, reading.

Jonathan shrugged. “Better,” he replied curtly, sitting down at the other end of the table. “He’s not doing very well,” he continued when the guard gave him an unsatisfied look. “His injuries are healing, but the fever hasn’t gone down.”

“He will be all right though, won’t he?”

“Yes,” Jonathan nodded. “He just needs time to recover. He will be fine, I promise,” he added, feeling that the young guard was genuinely worried for his leader.

“At least you’re taking good care of him,” Duncan said quietly, fidgeting with the pages of his book. “Priwen without Geoffrey McCullum—“ he trailed off, looking down at his hands. “We really need him.”

“How did you end up with Priwen anyway?” Jonathan asked. “And have you eaten anything?”

Duncan shook his head. “I didn’t know if there’d be enough for Mr McCullum.”

“I told you to look after yourself,” Jonathan said, getting up. He took a plate from the cupboard, ladled some porridge onto it and set it on the table in front of the guard. He probably ought to talk to Richardson about the food and cooking, Jonathan thought when he sat back down.

Duncan started to eat, watching the ekon closely. “Are you still thinking we might murder you in your sleep?” he asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a badly hidden grin. “We won’t, you know. We’re glad you’re here. McCullum is, too.”

Jonathan snorted. “He doesn’t even trust me.”

“Of course he does!” Duncan chuckled. “He might not admit it, because you’re a leech and all, but he does. You don’t really think he would have let you near him if he didn’t?”

The ekon shook his head. “He hardly had a choice.”

“Naw, I think we both know Geoffrey McCullum is so stubborn he would happily die of the Spanish flu just to make a point.” The young guard sighed, then he looked Jonathan directly into the eyes, studying his face. “He’s a good man, y’know? He took me in when I was a wee lad, gave me a home, even if I was no good for Priwen, just another mouth to feed…” He shrugged.

“What happened to your family?” Jonathan asked. “You needn’t tell though, if you don’t want to,” he added quietly, feeling like he’d overstepped.

“’s all right, I don’t mind telling ye. Father died in the war, only a few days after he was sent to France. Mother did her best to look after us bairns, but she worked in the factory, so she wasn’t home much. My older brother took care of us instead… until he got sick. He got the flu first, then mum, then my little brother. It was just me and my little sister left then, and they told us we’d have to leave the flat, so we did…” Duncan ate in silence for a while before he continued almost inaudibly. “My sister was killed by an ekon. I only survived because a Priwen patrol heard our screams…” He fell silent again.

‘I guess we have that in common then,’ Jonathan thought grimly, but he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t known that the young guard had lost family to one of his kind, and for a split second he wondered why Duncan didn’t hate him.

“It’s not your fault, Dr Reid,” he said, as if he knew what Jonathan was thinking. “You’re not like them.”

Jonathan swallowed. He would have told Duncan that he was very much mistaken, but then the guard gave him a shy smile and said, “I can tell, Sir. You’re not like the other blood drinkers. And we’re all glad you’re here and looking after our leader.”

“Then I had better go see that he doesn’t die on my shift,” the ekon chuckled, getting up. “Have you seen Kieron by the way?”

Duncan shook his head. “He’s probably outside. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” He hesitated. “Can we cook something later?”

Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, if you like.” Without asking, he put some money on the table. “When you buy food, would you please get me something from the butcher’s?”

When Jonathan entered Geoffrey’s office a few minutes later, he found the hunter fast asleep.

Sitting down on the chair next to the bed, the ekon allowed himself to focus on the man’s blood, sluggishly pumping through veins and arteries. He fancied he could even smell it, and his fangs began to ache with want. If the hunter had any idea how delicious Jonathan thought he looked, he probably wouldn’t hesitate to try and kill him again, Jonathan figured. Good thing he was sleeping.

Giving in to the thirst, Jonathan pressed his tongue against one of his fangs until he drew blood. It wasn’t as sweet and sating as the hunter’s, but it made it easy to recede his fangs. He leaned back and sighed. He could tell that McCullum was still feverish, but his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. His features were relaxed, but he was still very pale and looked fragile and vulnerable.

Hesitantly, the doctor reached out and put a hand on his forehead. He told himself it was to check his temperature, but when Geoffrey’s eyes snapped open at the touch, Jonathan knew he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And he saw that Geoffrey knew. He wanted to apologise, but the Irishman spoke first.

“You really do care,” he stated huskily, feeling like he had suddenly found the answer to a riddle he had struggled with for so long.

“Would that be an issue?” Jonathan asked, withdrawing his hand.

Geoffrey cocked his head, looking the ekon into the eyes. It was an honest question, and he thought for a moment. Would it be an issue? Did he really still fear a caring leech? He finally shook his head. Judging by the look on Reid’s face, the gesture was answer enough – his expression softened, and a faint smile curled his lips.

“Are the lads treating you all right?” Geoffrey asked, changing the topic.

Jonathan nodded. “Yes, they are.” He still didn’t entirely feel at ease being surrounded by Priwen, but by now he trusted them enough to let down his guard – and so did at least some of them, apparently. “I appreciate not being hunted,” he continued, “and not having to hide who—or rather what I am. It’s—” he hesitated, “nice to have a place to stay.”

Geoffrey frowned. “What do you mean? What about the Pembroke?”

“With all that happened and with Edgar gone, I’m not all that welcome at the Pembroke anymore,” Jonathan shrugged helplessly.

“It’s their loss,” the hunter muttered. “What about your own home then?”

“My own home…” Jonathan sighed, looking away. When he continued, his voice was barely above a whisper. “My own home is empty. There’s nothing there for me—except memories. At least here I have you to bicker and argue with,” he added, although the lightness in tone didn’t reach his eyes.

“Aye, you must enjoy my company a lot if you’re staying for that,” the hunter said mockingly, suddenly realising how lonely Reid must be if he thought the company of vampire hunters was preferable to being alone. “Either way,” he added in a more serious tone, “I don’t mind you staying here.” He was about to continue, but a faint scratching sound on the door got his attention. “Could you please let Kieron in?” he asked, vaguely glad that the cat’s return saved him from saying something he might regret later.

Jonathan got up to open the door. Kieron brushed against his legs as soon as he was let in, and the ekon picked him up, tucking in his legs so the cat rested comfortably on his arms. Pulling the animal close, he buried his face in the fur. It was cold and smelled of fresh air.

“If you ask him nicely, he might help in the endeavour to feed you and bring you a few rats,” Geoffrey said, raising an eyebrow – less at Reid than at his cat for his display of affection.

“Duncan’s getting me nice food from the butcher’s now, so I don’t need nasty rats anymore,” Jonathan grinned mischievously. He put the cat down on the bed next to McCullum and sat down on the chair again. “Speaking of which, anything in particular you’d like to eat? And you should really drink more,” he admonished the hunter.

Geoffrey huffed at the absurdity of this whole situation. “I’m not really hungry,” he said. “Whatever you bring is fine, I s’pose,” he mumbled, not unkindly. “And I really need to take a leak first.”

“Right.” Jonathan got up, holding out a hand. “I’ll help you.”

“Ehhh, fuck off, Reid,” Geoffrey groaned, but he reached for the doctor’s hand anyway. He winced when he sat up, the injury on his stomach still painful.

“Now, now, McCullum,” Jonathan chided, helping Geoffrey stand. He put an arm around his waist when the hunter swayed slightly. “Can you walk?”

Geoffrey nodded, relying on Jonathan’s support. It hurt, but with the doctor’s help he managed to hobble across the hallway. Thankfully, Reid didn’t even suggest accompanying him further than to the door, though the hunter still scowled at him.

Jonathan simply raised a brow and shot him an annoyed look but promised to wait for him. He leaned against the balustrade, looking around. It still struck him that the hunters’ headquarters felt more like an actual home than the barracks of a militia. Laughter and voices below caught his attention, and he watched as a group of guards got ready to patrol the city. Jonathan was just about slink back into the shadows, when one of the men noticed him.

“Evenin’, Dr Reid!” he called out, waving his hand, as did the other hunters.

Jonathan hesitantly returned the wave and wished them a good evening, and good luck for the patrol. He was surprised by their reaction at seeing him, but it was a pleasant surprise for certain.

“What are you plotting, Reid?” Geoffrey asked warily, standing in the doorframe, observing the ekon closely.

Jonathan turned around. “I was just thinking about your offer.”

“Staying and working for Priwen as a doctor?”

Jonathan nodded. “I’d consider it… if its leader were less—obnoxious.”

“Less _obnoxious_?” Geoffrey gave him a look as if he had been offended by his choice of words, but then he grinned. “Frankly, Reid, I think you wouldn’t even recognise me anymore then.”

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan laughed, “I can always recognise you by the scent of your blood.”

“Yeah, so convenient,” Geoffrey muttered, rolling his eyes. “Just help me get back to bed, you creep.” He reached for Jonathan’s arm. His leg was starting to hurt badly, and he leaned heavily on the ekon.

“I’ll give you something for the pain,” Reid offered. He could tell that the hunter wasn’t doing well, feeling the tension and the heat of his feverish body.

The hunter just nodded; he felt so ill and miserable that the gentle haziness of the morphine seemed preferrable to trying and keeping a clear head. By the time they reached his room, he was focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other, and it was only thanks to Reid’s support that he managed to remain upright. He hardly noticed when Jonathan sat him on the bed, lifted his legs onto the mattress and tucked him in, but he missed the cool touch when the doctor removed his hands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Jonathan asked quietly. Without asking, he put a hand on Geoffrey’s forehead. “The fever has gone down a bit, but you don’t look too well.”

“I don’t _feel_ too well either, Reid,” the hunter groaned, giving the ekon a tired look.

“Get some sleep, hunter,” Jonathan said and got up. “I’ll get you some food.”

“Don’t be long,” Geoffrey mumbled, so quietly that Jonathan wasn’t even sure whether he’d heard the words.


	8. Chapter 8

Jonathan stayed with the hunter until the early morning.

If he hadn’t known McCullum any better, he could have sworn the man did try to be less, well, obnoxious. He was still weak and in pain, but to Jonathan’s surprise, he didn’t even pretend anymore to mind his presence or help, even accepted his assistance getting cleaned up. It seemed like even his company was more agreeable to Geoffrey than being alone and stuck in bed all day and night. He had been civil, to say the least, and told him about his time with the guard before he had become their leader – always careful not to divulge any sensitive information, naturally – while Jonathan had answered the hunter’s questions about his time in the war. When he had left to go to sleep, he thought he’d seen something akin to understanding, even sympathy in Geoffrey’s unusually soft gaze.

He woke with a start. For a split second he wondered why he had woken up at all, feeling that it was still daytime, but then he heard the scream. He recognised Geoffrey’s voice, and before he was even fully conscious, Jonathan jumped out of the bed, threw open the door to his room and followed the sound of the hunter’s angry and pained curses.

McCullum was lying at the bottom of the stairs, writhing in pain. How he’d ended up there Jonathan could only guess, but he didn’t hesitate to shadow jump to the hunter’s side, even though the corridor was flooded with light.

“Geoffrey!” the doctor called, stilling the hunter’s movements, ignoring the sunlight burning his own naked back. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Before McCullum could reply, Jonathan heard voices behind him, and strong arms yanked him away. He protectively put up his hands, expecting a blow, but instead someone threw a coat over him, yelling at him to get the fuck out of the sunlight. Jonathan looked up, staring at McIntyre’s face in shock. “I thought you were going to kill me,” he gasped.

“You were standing right in the bloody sunlight,” the brawler said defensively, almost angrily. “I thought ye was goin’ ta burn to death!”

“It takes more than that to kill me,” Jonathan huffed, unwilling to admit how much the burns hurt. “And I’ll heal a lot quicker than McCullum,” he added, “let me help him.” He reached for McIntyre’s outstretched hand and got to his feet. The other guards stared at him, unsure what to do or think. They didn’t stop him, however, when he went back to Geoffrey, who was still cursing and moaning in pain.

“McCullum, where are you hurt?” he asked, checking the hunter’s body for injuries.

“Jesus, Reid,” Geoffrey muttered, swatting the ekon’s hands away, “you’re burning, get out of the sun!”

“I’ll be fine,” Jonathan said, “now let me have a look.” He ran his hands across the other man’s body, quickly and efficiently, feeling for broken bones and using his vampiric vision to check for haemorrhaging. “Your leg injury is bleeding, I might need to stitch that again, let’s get you back upstairs. Unless,” he added in a confidential whisper, “you mind your men seeing me carry you.”

“Like you care,” Geoffrey growled, knowing full well that Jonathan _did_ care, “I just want back to bed.”

Jonathan nodded and lifted him up gently. He turned around when McIntyre called his name.

“Dr Reid,” the brawler said, “could you come see me when you’re done? I need to speak to you.” He didn’t wait for the ekon to reply, but turned around, ushering the other guards back to wherever they’d come from.

Jonathan wondered what the man wanted to talk about, but somehow he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Maybe the guard finally got tired of having a blood sucker around, regardless of whether he was helping their leader or not.

“Don’t worry,” Geoffrey muttered, as if he’d sensed the ekon’s unease, “Mac likes you. He won’t want to get rid of you.”

“And you?” Jonathan asked quietly when they were back in McCullum’s room.

“What about me?” the hunter asked warily.

“Do you want to get rid of me?” Jonathan could have punched himself the moment he asked the question. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear the answer. “What were you doing up anyway?” he quickly changed the topic.

“I had to take a piss, stumbled and fell down the feckin’ stairs, if you must know.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” the doctor muttered. He shot the hunter a guilty look when he laid him down on the bed. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Another thing he wished he hadn’t said out loud. “You’re hurt, let me have a look.” He sat down, threw back the covers and started unwrapping the bandage on the hunter’s thigh. Geoffrey winced, but he didn’t protest. The wound was bleeding slightly, but wouldn’t require new stitches, just a fresh dressing. “There,” Jonathan said when he finished bandaging the leg, “any other injuries?”

“My shoulder hurts,” Geoffrey mumbled.

“You took quite a fall,” the ekon nodded, pushing up his shirt, “your shoulder is pretty badly bruised...” He ran his fingers across the shoulder blade and clavicle and used his vampire sense to assess the damage. The skin was already turning a dark shade of blue where the hunter’s body had made contact with the stairs. “But nothing’s broken. Would you like something for the pain?” he asked, pulling down the shirt.

Geoffrey shook his head. “No, thank you. I think my men are waiting for you anyway. Though you might want to put on some clothes before you speak to them.”

When Jonathan went back to his room to get dressed, both McIntyre and Captain Richardson were waiting for him.

“No sunlight here,” the brawler explained, seeing the doctor’s apprehensive look, while the captain asked him to sit down.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Jonathan said before he even closed the door, “I didn’t mean to—"

“It’s not about that,” Richardson interrupted. “Geoffrey asked us to speak to you.”

Jonathan frowned. He already didn’t like where this was going. He quickly put on a shirt, then sat down on the bed.

“Apparently, he offered you a position,” the captain continued. “You’re a good doctor, Priwen could use that. According to Duncan, you’re also a good cook – you gave him money to get food?”

“I apologise if I—”

“For fuck’s sake, Dr Reid,” McIntyre snapped, cutting him off, “stop apologising already! You still think we want to get rid of you, don’t you,” he continued in a softer voice, “but we’re actually asking for your help.”

Jonathan stared at the two guards in utter confusion. “You— want me to stay? You want me to work for the Priwen Guard?”

“Aye.” They nodded.

“And what does the rest of the guard think of this?” he huffed.

“They think it’s a splendid plan,” McIntyre grinned. “You are practically family by now.”

Jonathan gave him an annoyed look. “Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly how it is,” he muttered, unconvinced. “I’ll accept your offer though, and, what’s more, I’m grateful for it,” he admitted, relaxing slightly.

“Good,” Richardson nodded. “How’s Geoffrey? Does he still have the flu?”

“He’s doing better,” Jonathan replied. “But, yes, he’s still sick, so you and your men should keep your distance for the time being. His wounds are healing well, though. I think,” he added, hesitating, “it might be better if I stayed with him?” He expected the guards to protest, but both of them just nodded.

“If Geoff doesn’t mind?” Richardson said, getting up. “I’ll tell the lads you’re going to stay. And you keep taking care of Geoff.”

Jonathan nodded and got up to go back to McCullum’s room, but McIntyre held him back. “Hang on a moment,” he said, “let me have a look at your back, those burns looked fairly nasty.”

“I’m fine,” the ekon grumbled, but when the brawler held out a bottle to him and ordered him to drink, he reluctantly sat down again. He was vaguely grateful that the guards looked after him the way they did, and even though he felt uneasy about giving in to his hunger in front of the brawler, he emptied the bottle. “It’s all right, really,” he said when the guard gave him a concerned look. “I heal pretty fast, as we both know.”

“Yes,” McIntyre huffed. “I remember fighting you. Still got a few scars from that encounter,” he chuckled, “but none as bad as the one you got on your back. I saw it when you rushed in to save the boss,” he explained. “From the war?” he asked before Jonathan could comment on his ‘rushing in to save the boss.’

The ekon nodded. “I’m sorry I injured you,” he said quietly.

“Well, I did try to kill you, didn’t I?” McIntyre wasn’t going to admit that he much preferred being on Reid’s side rather than fighting against him, though he assumed the vampire already knew that. “Either way,” he continued after a pause, taking the empty bottle from the ekon, “if your injuries don’t require treatment, don’t let me keep you any longer. Geoffrey’s probably waiting.”

Although both his face and his tone were perfectly neutral, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel like the brawler was hinting at—well, what exactly? His attachment to the hunter? Or was he suggesting the hunter felt any partiality towards him? The thought was absurd, and yet—

“If you need anything, let us know,” McIntyre interrupted his thoughts. “Duncan went to the butcher’s, so you needn’t starve or even think about feeding on us.” The brawler turned around with a smug grin, taking his leave with a casual “Laters, Doc,” leaving Jonathan somewhat speechless.

He was still lost in thought when he put on trousers and went back to McCullum’s room.

“Reid!” The hunter sounded almost relieved. “How’d it go? What did Fred say?”

“You should know,” the ekon growled, “_you_ were the one who told them to—”

“Ask you to stay,” Geoffrey finished his sentence. “Yeah, I figured if I asked you, you’d assume it’s a ruse.”

“You don’t give me very much credit, do you, McCullum,” Jonathan sighed. “Seems like I trust you more than you think.”

“So you accepted.”

“Give me a break.” The ekon rolled his eyes and sat down.

“You don’t think it’s a very good idea, do you,” Geoffrey said, observing the other man closely.

Jonathan shrugged.

“Well, I for one am glad you’re staying,” the hunter admitted, giving the ekon an almost shy smile.

“I’m—happy to hear that,” Jonathan said, surprised by McCullum’s honesty. “How are you feeling?” he asked, doing his best not to read too much into the Irishman’s admission and change the topic instead.

“Better, but my leg hurts like fuck. Before you ask, no, I don’t want any morphine. Could you do me a favour though?” he asked quietly, and, when Reid nodded, continued, “Would you please give me a shave?”

“A shave, McCullum?!” Jonathan laughed. “As in: you trust me to have a blade on your throat?”

The hunter groaned. “Yes, as in that. If I do it myself, I might accidentally decapitate myself. As much as you might appreciate the bloodbath, I wouldn’t.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Better let me do it then, because to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t _really_ appreciate that bloodbath either.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does the end of the chapter need rewriting? Perhaps. I am tired and can't be bothered to re-read right now. And once again I’m wondering what tf I’m doing and where I was going with that.

“Seems like you also trust me more than I thought,” Jonathan said when he sat down on the bed next to the hunter, helping him sit up.

“It does, doesn’t it,” Geoffrey muttered. When Reid started to lather his face with soap, he relaxed gradually, finding he didn’t dislike the ekon’s ministrations.

“All right, hold still now,” Jonathan cautioned as he reached for the razor. His face was all concentration when he scraped the blade over Geoffrey’s skin, turning his face this way and that, his touch gentle and purposeful. It took a while, but when he announced he was done and started to clean the remaining foam away with a damp cloth, the hunter felt almost disappointed.

“Thank you, Reid,” he said, “I really appreciate it.”

Jonathan smiled. “You’re welcome.” The hunter looked younger, though still much too pale and feverish. The ekon swallowed, feeling a strange rush of affection, and it took all his willpower not to reach out and touch Geoffrey again. “Are you hungry?” he asked instead. His voice was husky, but if McCullum noticed, he didn’t let on.

“Aye, a bit. But you really needn’t go through all that trouble and cook for me, you know.”

“I thought that’s why you hired me.”

Geoffrey laughed, but before he could reply, there was a knock on the door and Captain Richardson peeked in.

“Sorry to disturb you, but we need Dr Reid’s help. There’s a report of two sewer beasts roaming around near the docks, and you,” he looked at the ekon, “are better equipped to deal with them than we are, I think.”

“_That_’s why we hired you, Reid,” Geoffrey whispered and gave him a smug, albeit tired grin.

“Give me a minute,” Jonathan said to the captain, then turned to Geoffrey. “Will you be all right?”

“Aye, don’t worry. I’ll wait till you’re back, I’m not starving just yet.”

“Get some sleep in the meantime,” Jonathan said, his voice too fond for his own liking, then turned to Kieron, still curled up next to the hunter. “You watch out, don’t let the leeches bite him,” he told the cat, gave him a few pets and then followed Richardson.

“Reid,” the hunter called when he was at the door, “please take care and don’t get yourself killed.”

A fully armed patrol was waiting for him downstairs; there were six guards, but apart from Richardson and McIntyre, Jonathan didn’t know any of them. They looked at him nervously, probably not even realising that the ekon felt as uncomfortable in their presence as they did in his. At least they returned his greeting.

Jonathan would have preferred if Geoffrey’d had his back rather than some guards who didn’t trust him, but he figured that both the second in command and the brawler would look out for him if the other guards decided to try and murder him.

They made it to the docks without any incident though, and it didn’t take long to find the sewer beasts, not with Jonathan’s superhuman senses. It didn’t take long to kill them, either, though Jonathan ended up with a few scratches and a torn coat. The guards had mainly stayed out of his – and harm’s – way, but he preferred that to them getting hurt – not least because he wanted to check on Geoffrey rather than take care of the injuries of his men.

They torched the carcasses while Jonathan tried to clean the worst off his clothes, hands and face. “Did I pass the test?” he finally asked the captain with a skewed grin.

Richardson just laughed. “Yes, thanks for your help, Dr Reid.” He turned to the other guards. “Turtle?”

Jonathan, not particularly eager to go to the bar anyway, turned to the brawler. “Mr McIntyre, would you do me a favour, please?”

“Call me Mac. Everyone does. What do you need, Doc?”

“Since we’re close to the Pembroke, would you help me get a few things there?”

“Sure. But let’s ‘ave a drink first. It’s Priwen tradition to get wasted after a hunt.”

Before Jonathan could decline, one of the guards turned to Captain Richardson. “I won’t drink with a leech!” he cried. “And you shouldn’t either, I don’t understand why—”

“All right, laddie, we get your point,” McIntyre’s booming voice cut him off, “now calm down.” He knew the boy needed more time to get used to having a vampire around, and there was no point trying to convince him otherwise right now. Turning to Jonathan, he said: “We’ll get wasted later then, Reid, and get your stuff at the Pembroke first.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly when they’d gone a few metres.

“Don’t mind Doyle,” the brawler said, putting a hand on the ekon’s shoulder. “He’s a bit of a cunt sometimes. But he’s a good lad – and once he’s warmed up to you, you two’ll get along just fine.”

“I appreciate your kindness,” the ekon said helplessly. “It—feels wrong, somehow, to stay with Priwen.”

“Does it?” the brawler sounded surprised. “Geoffrey likes you, and he’s the boss. If he’s all right having you around, it is.”

As much as he wanted to, Jonathan couldn’t really argue with that logic, so he didn’t say anything. They walked the rest to the hospital in silence, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” Mac asked when they got to the gate.

“Not if you don’t mind accompanying me.” He was glad the brawler followed along, though he would have been reluctant to admit it to the man’s face. It was strange to be back at the Pembroke, and he felt uneasy when he walked up to the desk in the hall.

“Dr Reid!” nurse Branagan called out when she saw him. “We haven’t seen you for days, is everything all right? We were quite worried,” she prattled on before he could answer, “that is most of the staff were. Dr Ackroyd said you weren’t coming back anyway, and, actually, your room is taken by a new surgeon who was hired when you left. Dr Strickland packed up your things,” she continued without giving the ekon a chance to point out that, strictly speaking, he hadn’t left, “they are in his office, I believe. But don’t let me keep you, I’m sure you have more important things to do.” She seemed to notice his torn clothes only now, and the Priwen brawler standing behind him. “Goodness, Dr Reid, are you hurt? Do you need medical assistance? I’ll go get—”

“No, thank you,” Jonathan finally managed to interrupt her with a friendly smile, “everything’s fine. We’re just here to get my things.” He was about to ask her how things were at the hospital, but McIntyre claimed that they were so sorry but really had to get going, excused themselves and dragged Reid up the stairs.

“No wonder you didn’t want to come here alone, Doc,” the brawler chuckled.

“She was just happy to see me alive—well, ‘alive’. If you recall, last time she saw me I was dragged out of the hospital by two Priwen Guards, including you, who looked like you were going the stab me the moment you’d get the chance.”

McIntyre laughed. “Yeah, I recall that,” he admitted.

As nurse Branagan had said, his things – mainly books, notebooks and some clean clothes – were neatly packed in a suitcase in Strickland’s room.

“Give me a second,” Jonathan whispered, “I’ll need to get Lisa, too.” He assumed that the new surgeon was asleep in his room, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake the man up in the middle of the night. He opened the door as quietly as he could, then, using his leech abilities, slipped in through the crack. The potted plant was still where he’d left it, and judging by its state, the new doctor had taken good care of it.

“I didn’t take you for a man who names his plants,” Mac observed with a raised brow.

Jonathan shrugged. “Don’t hold it against me.”

“Naw, don’t worry. I might tell the lads though. After all, how terrifying can someone be who has a plant called Lisa?”

“If you tell them, I’ll show you just how terrifying I can be,” the ekon growled, but the brawler just laughed. He knew full well what the proper doctor was capable of.

“Let’s go get a drink, Reid,” he said, “and I won’t take No for an answer. Like I said, it’s tradition.”

“Fine,” Jonathan finally gave in with a groan, “one round. I certainly don’t want to be stuck at the Turtle during daytime.”

“Aye, no worries, _leech_, I’ll get you back home safe before the sun’s up.”

McIntyre kept his promise and accompanied the ekon back to headquarters after just one pint.

It was nearly morning when Jonathan slipped into Geoffrey’s room, careful not to wake the hunter.

“You took your time,” the Irishman muttered, though not unkindly.

“I thought you were asleep, McCullum,” Jonathan sat down on the chair by the bed. “Your guard forced me to join them at the Turquoise Turtle, hence my tardiness. Did you get something to eat?”

Geoffrey nodded. “How’d it go?” he asked, sitting up with a groan. It was clear he wasn’t talking about the sewer beasts.

“Your men didn’t try to kill me, though some of them weren’t too happy to have me around,” Jonathan shrugged.

“Let me guess, they were happy enough you took care of the beasts, right? Look,” the hunter said after a short pause, “they’ll get used to you. Please give them some time.” He cleared his throat. “You should probably get some sleep, it’s nearly dawn. We can talk about this tonight.”

“What about your injuries?”

“They can wait, too, don’t worry.” His leg in particular still hurt, but not so badly that he couldn’t wait a few hours more. Besides, he didn’t want any painkillers anyway, and the ekon needed sleep. “Get some rest,” he said again.

Jonathan gave him a doubtful look, but eventually sat back in the chair. “All right. But wake me when you need something.”

“What, you’re planning to sleep in that chair?”

“Well, last time I left you alone, you fell down the stairs, McCullum.”

“You can’t sleep in that chair, for God’s sake. Reid…” The Irishman hesitated.

“I’ll be fine. I’m dead, McCullum, hardly makes a difference whether I sleep on a chair or in a bed.”

Somehow, Geoffrey was glad that Reid hadn’t let him finish his thought – had he really just been about to suggest he’d make space for the ekon and let him sleep in his bed? He bloody hoped not. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked hoarsely, trying to ignore the thoughts that had suddenly crept into his mind.

Jonathan nodded. “Sleep well, McCullum,” he said with a soft smile, touched by the hunter’s concern. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be sleeping, but instead I decided to finish this chapter. Hope it ain't too bad, though.  
Always happy to get some feedback!

Geoffrey slept through most of the day, still feeling weak and miserable, though he reckoned that the fever was almost down.

When Fred checked on him and brought something to eat and drink, he suggested they bring Reid to his room, the doctor would surely rather sleep in his bed.

“Let him stay,” Geoffrey said, almost pleading. He knew that, undead or not, Reid wasn’t comfortable sleeping in that chair, but then hadn’t he been adamant about staying? “Maybe you could bring one of the armchairs up for him to sleep in? It gets awful lonely, y’know?” he explained after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know, Geoff.” Fred gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you only have a vampire to keep you company-- actually, you don’t really mind having him around anymore, do you?” he asked carefully.

The hunter snorted. “I don’t, no,” he admitted, knowing that his second-in-command always saw right through him anyway. “I’m glad he’s here. It’s not just that I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for him…”

“It’s all right to like him, you know,” Fred murmured when Geoffrey didn’t continue.

“Is it? I’m s’posed to _kill_ him, not—” the hunter swallowed. “I’ve—grown fond of him,” he mumbled. “Though I doubt he feels the same way about me.”

“I think you’ll find he likes you more than you realise, Geoff,” the captain said. “Either way,” he continued, ignoring McCullum’s doubtful look, “I’ll tell Mac to bring up that armchair – shite’s too heavy for me to carry anyway. Promise me to eat something, all right? And get some rest.”

“Jesus, you sound like Reid, stop your mothering already!” Geoffrey groaned.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe you should start listening then,” Fred chuckled. “I’ll come by again later. And Murderkitten probably ought to air his fur a bit,” he added when Kieron jumped up and scampered to the door.

“Fred,” Geoffrey called when the captain was at the door. “Could you please tell the lads I want to speak to them tonight? They haven’t seen me for days, and I don’t want them to think that Reid is secretly sucking me dry, or something.”

“Sure,” Fred nodded, “I’ll assemble them before they’re off to patrol the city.”

When the guard and the cat had left, Geoffrey lay there, thinking. He studied the ekon’s relaxed features, wondering how Fred would know anything about Reid’s feelings towards him – if he had any in the first place. But he couldn’t deny the gentle kindness with which the leech had been treating him ever since that night he broke down. No, it had been there even before that, hadn’t it? He’d seen it in Reid’s eyes after they’d fought in the attic, when he spared his life and let him go, and later on the cemetery, asking for King Arthur’s blood.

A knock on the door got Geoffrey back to the present.

“I don’t get why Dr Reid isn’t supposed to sleep in his bed comfortably and instead has to make due with a bloody chair,” McIntyre commented when he came in, carrying a heavy armchair. “I could go get a mattress for him, if he must stay here?”

“I don’t think it makes much of a difference to a dead man,” Geoffrey repeated Reid’s assertion – not that he believed it himself. “But I’ll ask him tonight,” he added when the brawler raised a brow.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Mac shrugged, then he bent down, picked up the sleeping ekon and put him in the armchair instead, careful not to wake him. “I’ll still get his blanket, even if he’s dead anyway, be right back.”

When the brawler returned with Reid’s blanket a short moment later, the cat came with him. “Someone else seems to be eager to keep you company,” he observed as Kieron jumped on Geoffrey’s bed. His fur was cold and wet.

“Great,” the hunter growled, brushing dirt off his blanket, “no wonder my bed feels like a sandbox – couldn’t you at least clean his paws a bit?”

McIntyre just laughed. “Stop whining, you ponce. We’re busy slaying monsters, and furball can clean his own paws, right, furball?”

Kieron agreed with a quiet _prrt?_, contentedly kneading Geoffrey’s blanket.

“I’ll go get some sleep now. Need anything else, boss?”

Geoffrey shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

He laid back on the pillow with a sigh when the brawler closed the door behind himself. He should probably get some sleep, too. And he’d need the doctor’s help if he wanted to be presentable for later, Geoffrey realised. It struck him again how peaceful the man looked during daytime, though Reid had generally been much more at ease these past few days than when he first came to Priwen. Judging by what Fred and Mac had told him, most of the guards were fairly laid-back about the vampire’s presence by now, too. Geoffrey couldn’t deny he was relieved about how things had turned out, either. Giving Kieron a few pets, he turned to lie on his uninjured side, keeping his eyes on Reid as he drifted off to sleep.

When Geoffrey woke up, Jonathan was still sitting in the armchair. He was cradling the cat, murmuring quietly, occasionally pressing his face into the animal’s fur, inhaling deeply. Kieron let him, purring softly.

“I hope you’re not planning on eating that,” the hunter chuckled, unable to stop himself.

Jonathan looked up and gave the hunter a warm smile. “McCullum, you’re awake,” he said, sounding pleased. “Feeling any better?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Yeh. Listen, I need to speak to my men before they’re off – will you please help me look a bit… less sick?”

Jonathan nodded. “Of course.” He put Kieron on the bed, then studied the hunter’s pale face. “Thanks for the cosy chair by the way,” he said honestly, even though he wasn’t exactly happy that he’d been moved in his sleep. Again. “I appreciate your concern.”

“You said it makes no difference, but I thought—”

“It does,” the ekon interrupted very quietly, looking down at his hands to avoid the hunter’s eyes. “Maybe it’s only in my head, but it—_feels_ more comfortable than sleeping on a chair.”

“I’m glad.” Geoffrey sat up, suppressing a moan of pain. “Reid—” he hesitated a few seconds, “that night I told you not to call me by my name… I apologise for that. I didn’t really mean it back then, and I wish I’d never said it.” He shrugged, giving the ekon a somewhat guilty look. “You know, the moment I saw you in Swansea’s office, I knew that, one way or another, you’d be the death of me.”

“One way or another?” Jonathan inquired, slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Metaphorically speaking,” Geoffrey huffed, blushing faintly. “When we fought in the attic,” he continued after a small pause, “I hated you for that… That, and because I thought you were responsible for the Disaster. I really wanted to kill you that night.”

“I know.” Jonathan’s voice was hoarse, but it didn’t sound like an accusation; after all, he hadn’t exactly been gentle with the hunter that night, either.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I just thought that… getting rid of you was the only way to—to not let you get under me skin.”

Jonathan wasn’t quite sure what to make of the hunter’s admission, certainly didn’t know what to reply, but the man’s words gave him an odd flutter in his guts.

“What I meant to say is,” Geoffrey said, hesitant to return the ekon’s gaze, “of course you can call me by my first name.”

“In that case,” Jonathan bent forward as if he was sharing a secret, “let’s make sure you look presentable for your speech, _Geoffrey_.”

McCullum wanted to protest that he wasn’t going to give a speech or anything like it, but the mischievous glint in Reid’s eyes stopped him.

“Should I have a look at your injuries?” Jonathan offered before the hunter could dwell further on why he felt himself blush again.

“Don’t think that’s necessary,” Geoffrey said, but he pulled away the blanket and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. “Look, no blood. I just need to clean up and get dressed.”

“Does it still hurt?” Jonathan asked, a concerned look on his face.

For a second, the hunter considered lying, but then he just said, “Yes, but it’s all right. I’ve really had worse.”

“You have indeed.” Jonathan agreed softly, putting a hand on the hunter’s shoulder as he got up. “I’ll get you some warm water to wash,” he said, “be right back.”

Geoffrey looked after him. He still felt the ghost touch of the hand that had lingered just a tad too long to be meaningless. He would have lied if he’d said that it had felt unpleasant, or wrong, and he knew it. So, when Jonathan came back with a basin of steaming water, he couldn’t help but grin.

“What is it?” Reid asked. It was rare enough that McCullum smiled like that, let alone at him.

“Nothing,” Geoffrey said, a bit too quickly, thankful that Jonathan didn’t dig deeper. Instead, the doctor sat down by the bed again and handed him the damp cloth. He helped the hunter wash and put on clean clothes, though he was careful to keep his distance.

“Do you need me to be there?” he asked when Geoffrey got up. He didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

The hunter thought for a moment. “No, they might think you’re doing some leechy mind control thing on me, or something. I need them to know that I’m fine and that you’re no danger to me – or them, for that matter. You stay here – or, actually, you can go wherever you like. It’s not like we’re holding you prisoner here.”

Jonathan laughed at that. “Just go, before they suspect me of doing something unsavoury to you.” He gave the hunter a light pat on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need me, I’ll be here when you come back.”

Jonathan could tell Geoffrey was in good spirits when he came back.

“Speech went well, huh,” he surmised. “What did your men say?”

Geoffrey sat down on the bed, heaving an exhausted sigh. He told Reid that they’d been happy that he was alive and well, recovering from the flu, a lot less pale than they might have feared, and that most of them were also happy enough to have a skilled doctor with them – leech or no leech.

“I’m glad,” Jonathan said, helping Geoffrey take off his shoes and undress.

“You must be bored out of your wits,” the hunter said when he was lying down again. “Staying here all night, with me?”

“I’m not,” Jonathan replied softly. “Bored, I mean. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“You do?” Geoffrey sounded genuinely surprised.

“Aye,” Jonathan nodded. “I hope that’s not an issue for you.”

The hunter chuckled. “It’s not, no. On the contrary.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burning the midnight oil again when I should be sleeping... Hope you'll enjoy this latest chapter anyways - and that it's not as bad as I think it probably is :)) (Typos etc. will be fixed eventually)

“Are you going to make a habit of this?” Geoffrey asked when Jonathan sat down next to him, holding out a plate of food. “Cooking, bringing me food…”

“I just might.”

“That’s good.” Geoffrey took the plate. “I always like the food you make. Could get used to having you around.”

Jonathan sat down on the bed next to him. “As a cook?”

“This is delicious,” the hunter praised instead of replying, swallowing a bite of food. He ate some more before he finally said, “Not as cook, naw. You’re—much more than that, aren’t you.”

“A ‘child of the night’,” Jonathan gave the hunter a skewed grin. “Or Priwen’s pet, as the members of the Ascalon Club call me.”

“That’s the worst they came up with?” Geoffrey chuckled, wondering if Reid had really considered they were right. “It’s not true anyway. More like the opposite.”

“The opposite…” Jonathan huffed, looking down at his hands.

Geoffrey frowned. “Does it make you lonely? Not belonging to them? Not belonging to humans, either?”

“I guess it should,” the ekon shrugged. “You know, it’s not even that much of a change, actually. Being alone, I mean. I’ve always been too busy studying and working to have a—relationship or a family,” he admitted bitterly. “Then the war broke out, and everything changed anyway.” He swallowed, unsure how to continue, feeling the Irishman’s steady gaze on him.

“Is that what you prefer then, being alone?” Geoffrey asked carefully, sensing his sorrow. “You’re not a prisoner here, Reid, y’know, you can leave any time if you want to.”

Jonathan looked up at that, then he shook his head. “When I told you a few nights ago that I enjoy spending time with you, Geoffrey, I meant it,” he said. Being alone had never really been much of a choice, and while he had no idea how he’d ended up with Priwen, with Geoffrey, sitting on the man’s bed, he couldn’t say he disliked it. He remembered telling McCullum how he’d no longer had anyone waiting for him, nowhere to go, really, but he wasn’t sure if that was still true. “The night I was turned,” he began hesitantly, “when I murdered my sister… I killed the one person who ever made me feel like I belonged.” He ran a hand over his face. “And the closest thing to friends I have left now are people who tried to kill me. Ironic, don’t you think?”

“No more ironic than a vampire hunter who chooses to—like a vampire,” Geoffrey said with an inscrutable expression.

“You _chose_ to like me?” Jonathan asked, not sure whether this was an encouraging thought or not. “Are you mocking me?"

The Irishman pursed his lips and put down the plate. “Come here,” he ordered, holding out an arm.

Jonathan hesitated a second, then he moved closer and leaned in, letting the hunter pull him into an embrace. He made sure to keep his face away from Geoffrey’s neck and put his head against his shoulder instead.

Geoffrey rubbed a hand over the ekon’s back. “I’m not mocking you, you silly man,” he muttered. “It was hard enough trusting a leech, y’know, letting you get close to me,” he said after a moment of silence, “so yeah, I _chose_ to like you.”

Jonathan didn’t speak or move, afraid that if he did, McCullum’s comforting arms would disappear like a figment of his imagination.

“I know how lonely it gets, sometimes,” Geoffrey continued, keeping the ekon close. “You see, I know that killing Ian, my brother—there was no other way to stop him. I am sure of that, but sometimes I’m still wondering if there mightn’t’ve been another way… I look at you, you’re this—this terrifying, mighty creature, and yet you’re always so restrained, I’ve never once seen you unleashed—not against humans, anyway.” He heaved a sigh. “The pain and guilt just don’t go away, do they.”

Jonathan shook his head, unable to reply. He had known about Ian, but now he realised how cruel it had been of him to assume that the hunter had had no qualms about killing him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really – after all, he’d long understood that the Irishman wasn’t this heartless killer some claimed him to be, and that, carefully hidden behind his angry façade, there was a kind and gentle man. “Your food’s getting cold,” Jonathan mumbled eventually, giving Geoffrey an opportunity to let go, anxious that the hunter might start to feel uncomfortable. Not that _he_ wanted to let go.

Geoffrey straightened and patted the ekon’s back, assuming he was getting uneasy by their closeness. “Hm-m, that’s a shame,” he said, reaching for his plate, but he looked at Jonathan. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded slightly. He wasn’t really sure whether he was all right or not, but he knew that the hunter’s affectionate gesture had taken a weight off his shoulder he hadn’t even been fully aware of in the first place. He wished Geoffrey hadn’t let him go, but that wasn’t something he could tell him, was it? “That was nice,” he admitted in a husky voice.

“Aye,” Geoffrey replied equally quietly, then continued to eat. The food wasn’t hot anymore, but he didn’t really mind. “I keep wondering what you’ll want in return,” he said after a while. “For staying here, helping, paying for my men’s food even,” he clarified, when Jonathan gave him a puzzled look.

“I don’t want anything in return.” Reid sounded almost offended. “I never did. It’s not why I’m staying.”

“Still feels like we’re taking unfair advantage of you, if I’m honest,” Geoffrey insisted.

“That’s not how I feel about it,” Jonathan shook his head. “I won’t lie, I wasn’t comfortable staying at Priwen’s HQ at first – my previous encounters with your lot weren’t, well, very agreeable.” That was putting it mildly, but he knew that Priwen’s encounters with him hadn’t ended very well for them, either. “But most of them have been very kind to me since I’ve been here – at least once they realised I, uh, was no danger to them.”

Geoffrey chuckled at that. “I thought it was their worst idea ever, bringing a leech here. That is,” he corrected himself, “until I realised you didn’t _really_ want to bleed me dry.”

“I’m glad you figured that out eventually,” Jonathan said, and there was a glint in his eyes the hunter couldn’t quite place. “It’s a relief not being hunted all the time, not having to hurt them, or you… And I’m glad I don’t constantly have to hide who I am.”

“Is that the worst of it? The hiding?”

“No,” the ekon replied after some hesitation. “The worst is the loneliness. _Was_. I—I don’t feel particularly lonely here.” He didn’t add that it was only a matter of time, though. Eventually, Priwen would no longer need him, perhaps he would slip, or Geoffrey would tire of him and, worse, one day he’d be gone…

“What it is?” the hunter asked, concerned by the shadow that had crossed Reid’s face.

“When I told you that I had thought about turning you… It wasn’t just because I wanted you to see things from my perspective… I was—am—scared that I’ll have all the time in the world and nobody to spend it with, and I was thinking that it would be nice to—to have you by my side.” Jonathan swallowed, knowing he’d said too much.

But Geoffrey just smirked. “To squabble with? Sounds temptin’.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Jonathan desperately tried to un-say his words, but the hunter interrupted him.

“I’m just pullin’ yer leg, Reid. If I had all eternity,” he mumbled, “I don’t think I’d, y’know, mind spending it with you.” He felt the blood redden his cheeks. “And, who knows, you might yet get yer chance to turn me.”

“Very funny, Geoffrey.” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“How else should one deal with all the shite that’s going on?” the hunter shrugged. “’sides, I wasn’t.”

“Well, in that case… Should you need assistance with that turning, I’m your man,” Jonathan offered, keeping his expression perfectly neutral.

“I know,” Geoffrey said. The ambiguity in Reid’s phrasing hadn’t escaped him, though he wasn’t quite sure whether it had been intentional on the ekon’s part. “We’d make a good team, eh?”

“No doubt.” Geoffrey would make a terrific ekon, Jonathan was certain of that. He pictured the hunter with fangs on his own and couldn’t help but shiver at the image.

Of course Geoffrey noticed. “What is it? Does that scare ye? You’d be no match for me if I were an ekon, you know that, right?”

“Naturally,” Jonathan smiled mischievously. “I’d be scared of your… _fangs_ in particular.”

“Jesus, Reid, you _had_ to make it awkward,” Geoffrey laughed. Was Jonathan really flirting with him? “Speaking of fangs… I’m still hungry. Would you awfully mind getting me some more food?”

“Not at all.” Jonathan got up and took the empty plate. “Need anything else? Wait,” he held up a hand, “before you say it, no, I will not bring you any booze, forget it.”

“Eh, whatever,” Geoffrey growled, “but I don’t want any tea.”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can find.”

The ekon was back only a few minutes later, and Geoffrey figured he must have hurried.

“Sorry, there wasn’t much food left,” Jonathan apologised when he handed him the plate. “Some of the guards—"

“Yeah, no wonder,” Geoffrey interrupted, “Priwen guards are always hungry. Especially when the food is that good. Did they at least feed you?”

Jonathan nodded.

“That’s good then. So… you’re not starving, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” the ekon smiled. “It’s certainly better than sucking on wet rats.”

“Eww, Reid! I’m eating, stop with your nasty leech stuff!” Geoffrey made a face, but he his appetite didn’t really seemed ruined. “Say, I was wondering…,” he began. “You aren’t bored here? Honestly? You’ve joined a few patrols, but other than that, you’ve never been out. All you’ve been doing was… well, looking after me.”

“I’m not bored. I told you before, Geoffrey, I like spending time with you – though—if you want to be rid of me, you only have to tell me.”

“I remember telling you to fuck off that first night, but you didn’t,” Geoffrey pursed his lips, hiding a grin when he saw that he’d rendered Reid momentarily speechless. “You know I’m jokin’, right? I don’t want to be ‘rid of you,’ you silly bugger.” He finished eating, feeling the ekon’s exasperated, soft gaze on him. “Shame the lads ate the rest of this,” he said with a sigh, putting the empty plate away.

“I’m glad you like it. And your appetite is a good sign. You’ll be back to your old self soon— that is,” Jonathan cleared his throat, “hopefully not _exactly_ your old self?”

“Ehh, yeah, well… I won’t go back to trying and murdering you, if that’s what you thought, Jonathan.”

The ekon stared at him in wonder. The hunter had never before called him by his first name, and the sound of it sent flutters through Jonathan’s stomach. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said huskily.

“Aye,” Geoffrey said vaguely, knowing full well that Reid had little reason to actually fear him, no matter how close he might have come to defeating him in the attic of Pembroke hospital. “Listen, will you do me a favour?”

“Of course, what do you need?”

“I’ll tell you in a mo, jus’ goin’ to brush me teeth,” McCullum said and sat up with a grunt. He accepted Jonathan’s help getting up and walking to the bathroom – his leg was still painful, though by now he was at least able to put weight on it again. Jonathan waited for him outside, curious about that favour, though he didn’t ask until they were back in the Irishman’s room.

“So what can I do for you?”

Geoffrey hummed, unsure how to best phrase his request. “If I make some space, you won’t bite me or anything, will you?” Before the doctor could voice his confusion, he continued, “sleeping in a chair isn’t very comfortable, is it, and, uh… well, if you like—I’ll make some space for you. If you promise not to bite me, that is.”

Whatever the ekon had expected, it certainly wasn’t _that_ offer. He didn’t even see how this was doing the hunter a favour, but he wasn’t going to point that out. “I would,” he admitted with a stupid grin he simply couldn’t wipe off his face. “Like to sleep in bed, I mean,” he clarified, avoiding calling it _Geoffrey_’s bed. “And I promise not to bite you.”

“Appreciate it,” the hunter smirked, actually moving to make space for the other man. “C’mere then.”

Jonathan sat down on the mattress, even more carefully than he usually did, took off his shoes and socks and then gingerly lay down next to the hunter, leaning against the headboard. Geoffrey clearly didn’t mind his presence, judging by how he snuggled close once Jonathan had stopped fidgeting and making himself comfortable.

“You all right?” the Irishman asked.

“Yes. Very.” Jonathan smiled, pulling Geoffrey into a lose embrace. “You?”

“Aye,” the hunter replied, leaning his head against the ekon’s chest. He felt better than he had in a long while, certainly longer than he could remember.


	12. Chapter 12

Waking up next to Geoffrey McCullum had become a regular occurrence since that first night, and Jonathan had almost grown used to sharing the bed with the other man.

The hunter was lying close, snoring softly, one arm draped over the ekon’s chest, warming him. It was a level of trust Jonathan would never have expected a few weeks back. He reached for Geoffrey’s hand, running his thumb over the rough knuckles. They weren’t intimate with each other, but their physical closeness offered comfort and solace that Jonathan knew both of them had been missing for longer than they probably cared to admit. Geoffrey didn’t seem to be bothered by what his men thought of it, or maybe they didn’t mind in the first place, but even when they went out on patrol together, the hunter would sometimes put a hand on the ekon’s back or wrap an arm around his shoulders as if it was something they’d always done.

He had assumed that once Geoffrey recovered from the flu, things would change, but they didn’t. The Irishman didn’t require his medical assistance anymore, yet he hadn’t once suggested that Jonathan should move back to his old room, let alone leave Priwen’s headquarters.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Geoffrey mumbled drowsily, apparently awake, though he kept his eyes shut as if he were unwilling to really wake up, didn’t even move, so Jonathan kept caressing his hand.

“Patrol?” the ekon suggested carefully. He never had any plans, as McCullum knew perfectly well, and going out on a hunt was the only thing they ever did if they did anything.

“I was thinking of taking a night off,” Geoffrey said. “Fancy a stroll through the park?”

“That sounds lovely,” Jonathan replied without hesitation, though he had no idea what the Irishman’s idea was of a ‘stroll through the park.’

“Good. I’ll let Fred know we won’t be around tonight,” Geoffrey announced, relieved that Reid had simply agreed to his – admittedly unusual – proposition without asking any questions. As much as he needed to talk to the ekon about the nature of their, well, relationship, he really just wanted to spend some quiet time with him, away from the carnage that any patrol with the vampire invariably ended in. “Get dressed then, I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.” With that, Geoffrey practically jumped out of bed, all but bubbling with excitement.

A quarter of an hour later, Jonathan was waiting for him outside. He gave Geoffrey an expectant look but didn’t say anything.

It was a wonderful evening; there was still a touch of purple in the eastern sky, and the rising near-full moon illuminated the surroundings. They walked towards the park in silence, as if words might somehow disturb the peaceful night. Geoffrey was unsure how to begin, so he didn’t, but when Jonathan offered his arm, he took it without even checking whether they were alone or not. It was such a simple gesture, and maybe the doctor hadn’t _really_ thought it through, but surely he had to be aware of what it would look like to anyone who saw them.

Just as the hunter decided that this wasn’t anybody’s business, a voice called out Jonathan’s name. He quickly let go of Reid’s arm, feeling himself grow pale.

He didn’t know the woman who approached them, but his companion certainly did.

“Elizabeth!” Jonathan cried, rushing towards her.

Geoffrey felt a pang of jealousy at the unmistakable joy in Reid’s voice. He cursed himself for having gone to the bloody park, realising what a blithering idiot he was and wondering what he had been thinking in the first place.

Before he could really give in to these uncomfortable thoughts, however, Reid put a hand on the small of his back and pulled him closer. “Elizabeth, may I introduce my dear friend Geoffrey McCullum, head of the Guard of Priwen?” The touch felt warm and genuine rather than possessive or protective. “Lady Elizabeth Ashbury. I believe you’ve met.” He grinned smugly, as if their previous encounters could have been anything but unpleasant.

“Mr McCullum,” Elizabeth bowed her head slightly, “it’s— nice to finally meet you, uh…”

“…under socially more acceptable circumstances,” Geoffrey finished. It got him an unexpected yet disarming smile from Elizabeth. “How do you do, Ma’am,” he bowed politely.

“How do you do,” she replied pleasantly. That hunter was all surprises, but when she looked at Jonathan and saw him blush slightly, it wasn’t hard figuring out why the man was so courteous. “Mr McCullum, Jonathan, I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I must be going,” Elizabeth excused herself, sounding genuinely disappointed. It wasn’t the truth, on the contrary, but she couldn’t help feel like an intruder, and she didn’t want to keep the two gentlemen from whatever it was they were doing.

Jonathan gave her a confused look, but her sudden leave wasn’t entirely unwelcome, even if he would have liked to speak to her some more – after all, they hadn’t seen each other for what felt like ages. “I will visit one of these days,” he promised.

“Please do,” Elizabeth said pleasantly, “you are both very welcome.”

Before either of the men could reply, she gave them a knowing smile and was gone the next moment.

“Your friends are strange,” Geoffrey commented wryly, vaguely grateful that they hadn’t bumped into someone who could have taken offence by their clearly illicit closeness. “Though I must say, as far as leeches go, Lady Ashbury seems fairly pleasant.”

“I’m glad you think so, Geoffrey,” the ekon replied with a smile. “Shall we?” he offered, keeping his hand on the hunter’s back.

“Actually… How about I take you on a ride?” Geoffrey gave him a sly grin.

“A ride?” Jonathan looked genuinely confused.

“Aye,” the Irishman confirmed. He really didn’t want to risk bumping into anybody else, friend or foe, and he knew just the place where they would be certain to be alone. “It’s too far to walk, so let’s take the bike. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure about that at all, but he couldn’t deny he was curious about where Geoffrey wanted to take him. “All right, lead the way.”

They went back to Priwen HQ, and when Geoffrey fetched his motorcycle, a proud grin plastered his face. “Won her in a card game,” he explained, handing Jonathan a pair of goggles. “Put these on, you don’t want bugs and dirt in yer eyes, dead or not. Now hop on.”

“How am I even supposed to do that?” Jonathan complained. There was no space for two people on that bike as far as he could tell.

“Ehh, you sit on the luggage rack,” Geoffrey said, “the lads do it all the time, and it’s not a very long ride, so stop yer whining.”

“I’m not whining,” Jonathan muttered under his breath as he mounted the motorcycle behind Geoffrey. Regardless of McCullum’s claim, the vehicle certainly wasn’t designed to carry a passenger, but he figured he’d manage. Geoffrey left him as much space as he could, then told him to hold on to something, so he wrapped his arms tightly around the hunter.

In spite of the uncomfortable seat, Jonathan enjoyed the ride. They eventually left the city behind, and as they drove along meadows and hedgerows, he wondered when he’d last felt so free and light. It wasn’t the change of scene or the serenity of the landscape as much as being so close to the one person he admired most in the world.

“We’re here,” Geoffrey announced softly as he shut off the engine, while Jonathan was still trying to come to terms with what he had just realised about the Irishman. “You all right there?”

“Yeah,” the ekon finally managed, letting go of Geoffrey, stiffly getting off the motorcycle. “It’s beautiful,” he said, looking around.

“It is, isn’t it,” McCullum confirmed. “Come on, it’s not far now.” He waited for the ekon to follow him as they walked across the heath until they reached a small lake. The moon shone so brightly that even Geoffrey could easily make out their surroundings. “Would you mind jumping us on that?” he asked when they stood at the edge of the water, pointing to a raft in the middle of the lake. It was probably what the local youth used when they went swimming here in summer, Jonathan surmised as he wrapped an arm around the hunter’s waist.

“It’s very—romantic,” he chuckled once they’d settled on the wooden construction.

“Is that an issue?” Geoffrey asked, a shadow of doubt colouring his voice, adding, “I used to come here when I was younger, always liked the place.”

“No, of course it’s not an issue. I’m happy to be here,” Jonathan replied honestly.

For a moment, the two men just sat there, listening to the sounds of the night, the croaking of the frogs and the occasional hooting of an owl.

“That’d be your siblings then, eh?” the Irishman smirked, quoting in a theatrical voice, “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!”

Jonathan snorted. “You’re such an ass, Geoffrey.”

“I know,” the hunter laughed, then he lay down with his hands wrapped behind his head. “You never see the stars so well in the city,” he observed quietly.

Jonathan leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the sky, and hummed affirmatively. He listened to the frogs, the lapping of the tiny waves, the hunter’s steady breathing. Without thinking, he lay down as well, moving until his head rested on McCullum’s stomach. “May I?” he asked quietly.

“Sure,” Geoffrey said, placing an arm across the ekon’s chest. He suddenly realised that, somehow, the talk he had meant to have with Jonathan wasn’t even relevant now, not with him so close and familiar and relaxed. “Was it worth the ride here?” he asked.

“Most definitely. Oh!” Jonathan sat up with a start, “I nearly forgot…” He reached into one of his coat pockets, “Brought you an orange, in case you get hungry.” He held out the fruit, and Geoffrey took it, sitting up.

“Why, thanks! That’s really—sweet of you,” the hunter exclaimed, surprising himself with his choice of words. “I don’t even remember when I last ate one of these.”

“I hope you like it,” the ekon replied sheepishly, watching as Geoffrey started peeling the orange with his knife. They were sitting very close, and he enjoyed the delighted look on the other man’s face as he savoured the fruit.

“I feel a bit bad,” the Irishman admitted eventually, giving Jonathan a sympathetic look, which got him a confused hum from the ekon. “It’s a shame you can’t eat this,” he explained, shoving the last remaining wedge into his mouth.

Jonathan swallowed. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the hunter’s face, and when McCullum wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his lips, he felt his own sluggish heartbeat quicken. “I could taste it, though,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

Finding Geoffrey’s mouth was easy. The kiss was hesitant and tender, lips barely brushing together until the hunter opened his mouth slightly with a tiny moan. Putting a hand on Geoffrey’s cheek, Jonathan deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into the hunter’s welcoming mouth. He had never kissed anyone like this, or been kissed, he realised as the Irishman melted into him and pulled him close.

“Never thought I’d enjoy a leech’s mouth on me,” Geoffrey whispered, running his hands over the ekon’s back before leaning back to get a look at the other man. Jonathan gave him a shy smile, brow furrowed in worried anticipation as if he wasn’t quite certain about the hunter’s words. For a few seconds, Geoffrey studied his face, then he pushed him until he was lying back on the planks with the hunter following suit. Sitting astride Jonathan, Geoffrey bent down to kiss him again, gently grinding his hips against Reid’s.

“I want to make love to you,” he confessed, sucking a bruising kiss on the ekon’s throat, “but I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop, and we really have to be home before the sun rises.” He kissed him again, this time more gently. “I’d hate to have to sweep up your charred remains with a broom or something,” he chuckled, the stubble on his chin tickling Jonathan’s neck.

Jonathan giggled at that image, even though he certainly didn’t fancy being caught outside during daytime. “Let’s go home then,” he suggested in a husky voice as he slid one hand under Geoffrey’s shirt and brushed the other one across his buttocks.

“If you keep doing that, Jonathan,” McCullum gasped, trailing soft kisses along his jaw, “I’ll be so hard I won’t be able to drive us home safely.”

Jonathan tightened his hold on the hunter’s arse and pulled him even closer. “And we can’t have that, can we?” he purred, a wicked smirk on his lips. He would have liked to stay longer, but Geoffrey was right. He was quite certain that he wouldn’t be able to stop either – and burning to a crisp somehow seemed like an acceptable price for the Irishman’s caresses.

In the end he was glad for the hunter’s forethought, and even though the ride was uncomfortable, Geoffrey did manage to get them back to Priwen headquarters safely.

“Next time, you’ll let me drive,” Jonathan groaned as he got off the motorcycle and stretched.

“No way,” the hunter shook his head, “I’d never trust a _leech_ with my bike. But,” he added with a grin as Jonathan pouted at the epithet, “we can take the sidecar next time. Now come on.” He grabbed Reid by the arm, pulling him across the courtyard.

Luckily, they didn’t see any guards on the way to McCullum’s room – the lads wouldn’t mind, Geoffrey figured, but his and the doctor’s _very_ apparent excitement would undoubtedly fuel their gossip for days, if not weeks.

He barely managed to close and lock the door behind themselves when Reid all but attacked him and pressed him against the door, kissing him fiercely. He was mindful of his fangs, and Geoffrey could tell that he was holding back.

“I won’t break, y’know,” he said huskily as he pulled Reid’s shirt out of his trousers, eager to feel the ekon’s cool skin.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love,” Jonathan explained.

“You won’t,” Geoffrey assured, unbuttoning Jonathan’s shirt.

“Geoffrey, I—” the ekon began as the Irishman undressed him. “My skin…” he struggled for words, “I’m…”

“It’s all right, Jonathan,” Geoffrey whispered, feeling the ekon tense up at the touch of his warm hands. “I don’t mind that your skin is cold. And no, you don’t feel like a corpse.” As if to make a point, he started trailing kisses over Jonathan’s naked chest, along his prominent clavicle, his hard pecs, flicking his tongue across a nipple until the ekon moaned with pleasure. “Come to bed with me, Jonathan.”

Reid still gave him an uncertain, self-conscious look when they stood by the bed and Geoffrey unbuckled his belt, shoving down his trousers. It was the first time he saw the ekon naked, which was slightly unfair considering that the doctor had seen just about all of him already. He’d certainly make up for that though, he thought with a grin as he pushed Jonathan back onto the bed.

Jonathan watched as the hunter pulled off his own shirt and trousers and climbed onto the bed to sit on top of him, straddling his hips. He knew he would never get enough this man, and it must have written all over his face, because Geoffrey leaned in and placed a slow and loving kiss on his lips.

“You are the most terrifying and the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he declared. “And it is the most astonishing fact that I may call you mine, Jonathan Emmet Reid.”


End file.
